


A Name He'll Earn

by dippkip



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Greek Mythology AU, M/M, Minor Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, brief allusion to sexual assult, fastburn but also slowburn, god clark, mortal bruce, offscreen sex, semi-graphic depictions of violence, yes it is both I swear it makes sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dippkip/pseuds/dippkip
Summary: When the gods of Krypton uncover a plot to lay waste to humanity, a champion is chosen to rally the people and defend the mortal realm. However, the solution sits ill with Kal-El, who feels it would be more helpful to offer direct aid. Disguising himself as a mortal, he descends from Krypton to fight alongside this champion, but finds he must contend with more amorous distractions than he anticipated. This king of Gotham is a legend in the making, indeed.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 22
Kudos: 121





	1. The Realm of the Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, I have crawled out of my hovel to once again leave an offering at the altar of the Superbat Reverse Bang. I was partnered with stuvyx this year, whose amazing art can be found [here](https://stuvyx.tumblr.com/post/622111769686638592/art-for-the-superbat-reverse-bang-2020-make-sure). It was apparently a deeply inspiring piece, since I came into this thinking I would whip up something quick but instead ended up with something over 20k lol. Additional thanks to my blessed beta [sugarlump](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarlump/pseuds/sugarlump), without whom I would be lost in the wilderness of typos.
> 
> It was really nice to get back into writing again, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did! Stay in and stay safe!

The morning was quiet, the air still, but for the distant thunder of hooves. Light slowly filled the sky as the hoof beats grew louder, heralding the first signs of daybreak. The sun’s rays fell warm and inviting on the land below as it slowly crept into place in the sky. A pair of magnificent stallions gradually pulled it over the horizon, along with a gilded chariot that glinted in the light. The driver tightened his grip on the reins and snapped them, urging the horses faster over the crest of the sky. The sun slowed behind them, content to continue at its own pace, but the driver laughed and leaned into the breeze as he gained speed, relishing the flutter of his clothes and the ruffling of his hair as the wind whipped around him. Spotting his destination in the near distance, the young god reluctantly tugged at the reins and set his steeds to a more reasonable speed, eventually coming to a stop at a stable perched at the top of a sheer cliff, flanked by a lush field of grass.

Kal disembarked from his chariot and turned his horses loose for the day, his morning duty fulfilled as the sun now shone brightly in the sky. He had no plans for the rest of the day and intended to spend it in relaxation – perhaps he could browse his father’s ever-expanding library and lose himself in the wonders of the world. He was loosely forming these plans when Krypto appeared at his side in a flash, panting happily and stretching his neck to draw attention to the special container affixed to his collar.

Kal smiled and scratched him behind the ears as he opened the container and removed the small scroll within. The missive was a brief yet cryptic _Return home son_ with no signature, but Kal could tell from the script that it was from his mother. He tucked the paper into the folds of his chiton and straightened up, giving Krypto one last pat before the dog took off at a sprint, eventually lifting off the ground and flying away.

Kal followed his example, moving with haste across the fields of Krypton until he spotted a familiar estate on the horizon. He passed through the front gates and made his way through the courtyard, entering the main sitting room where his family spent most of their time. His father was already present, seated on one of the couches with a furrowed brow and an open scroll in his lap, as was his mother, who was pacing in agitation. They both looked up as he entered and beckoned him closer. He obediently approached the couch, which his mother moved to stand behind.

“Is there something wrong?” Kal asked, brow pinched in concern.

Lara’s expression turned thunderous and the back of the couch creaked in protest as her grip tightened. Her jaw clenched, as though she wanted to speak but was trying to keep from saying something regrettable. Sensing her struggle, Jor spoke first. “There was a council of the greater gods today, as I’m sure you recall, my son. It wasn’t anything unusual – the same petty squabbles, the same old feuds,” he said slowly. Kal nodded, unsurprised, but said nothing as his father continued, “As the meeting ended, we began to disperse, but it appeared as though Dru-Zod had more to say. He stepped aside with your uncle Zor, looking quite intent. Your mother was wary, so she discreetly followed.”

“And a damn good thing I did,” she hissed. “Zod has become fixated on war and will surely destroy the people we’re supposed to protect.”

Kal frowned in confusion. “He’s the god of war, mother. If there’s one brewing in the mortal realm, it’s bound to stir him up.”

Lara shook her head slowly. “My son, Zod’s role is to preside over war as it appears. What he was suggesting was starting one himself – marching his armies out of Krypton and into the mortal realm to test the power of humankind.”

Kal felt his jaw drop without his permission. “But they…they wouldn’t stand a chance! The might of a god pitted against the strength of mere men…it would be a slaughter!”

“Indeed,” Lara reluctantly agreed. “He might be overwhelmed by sheer numbers eventually, but not without great cost to the mortals. That’s why we must intervene.”

“What do you propose we do, mother?”

“The mortals need a champion – someone who can unite their efforts and rally their strength,” Lara said thoughtfully. “My most faithful worshippers hail from the island of Gotham, and their king is a wise man and a cunning warrior. I believe he is the one we must call upon to fulfil this duty.”

“That’s all well and good, but what can he do against Zod?” Kal pressed. “A strengthened army may be able to overwhelm Zod’s forces, but the instant he figures out who’s leading humankind he’ll strike them down, and no mortal weapon could so much as scratch him!”

Lara and Jor met each other’s gazes for a brief moment, pinching their lips. It was Jor who finally said, “That is why we will offer him something that will level the field. Something that can kill a god.”

Kal blinked in shock. “You mean the Foniás? The godslayer? You’re really going to trust a mortal with that kind of power?”

“Not just any mortal, dear. This king is just, and has spent the entirety of his reign placing the protection of his people above all else. He is not a man who abuses his power,” Lara said confidently.

“…I trust your judgement, mother,” Kal conceded. “Then what are we to do?”

“I am leaving shortly to send a message to the oracle of Gotham – she will inform the king of his duty,” Lara explained. “After that, I’m afraid it’s up to him to make his way to the weapon himself.”

Kal frowned. “Hasn’t the key to the temple been scattered? How will he know where to find them?”

“I won’t be excessively cryptic,” his mother assured him. “He’ll know where to find each piece, and what sort of trial awaits him each time he retrieves one. I don’t intend to send humanity’s savior in blind.”

Despite his reservations, Kal simply nodded and wished his mother safe travels, seeing her off with a tense smile. He stood in silence with his father for but a moment before Jor left as well, citing a desire to return to his studies, leaving Kal alone with his thoughts.

He knew what guarded the key to the temple of the Foniás – the three trials of wit, strength, and heart, the monsters that were charged with defending their part of the key to the death. Kal didn’t know much about this king of Gotham, but these trials would be a mighty test even for the most talented warrior. Not to say he doubted the prowess of a man who managed to impress the goddess of wisdom and strategy, but it didn’t seem terribly fair of them to make humanity do their dirty work. Zod was their fellow god, wasn’t he? Why were they not stepping in to stop him themselves? They said they were helping humanity, but all they were _really_ doing was sending them on a dangerous mission so they could fix the problem themselves.

That didn’t seem right.

Mind made up, Kal retreated to his room to gather what he’d need and called for Krypto. The dog appeared in an instant, happily accepting the treats Kal offered as he slipped a note into the messenger’s collar.

“Bring this to Kara for me, will you?” he asked. Krypto wagged his tail in affirmation before taking off once again, leaping out the window in a single bound. Confident the message would arrive in time, Kal pulled on his armor, strapped his sword to his waist, and slung his shield over his back. He made a couple stops through the estate to collect the last of his supplies, then slipped out the back gates as quietly as he could.

It was a fair distance to his destination, but Kal traveled as swiftly as he could without arousing suspicion and soon arrived at the gates which kept Krypton separate from the mortal realm. Their guardian was nowhere to be seen, which meant Kara must have received his missive. His grip tightened on the strap of his bag and he took a deep, fortifying breath, but before he could make himself reach out and open the gates a voice rang out in the near distance.

“You don’t think you get to leave without a goodbye, do you?”

Kal couldn’t help but smile as he turned to his cousin, who drew close to playfully punch him on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Kara.”

“Good, because you aren’t getting away without explaining this to me,” she insisted. “What could possibly be so important that you have to sneak into the mortal realm and abandon your duties?”

“It’s only temporary!” Kal protested adamantly.

“Right. So how long am I stuck shuffling the sun around while you dither about in the mortal realm?”

“I’m…not sure. I’m going to help the mortal champion in his quest to repel Zod, but I haven’t quite decided how long I intend to accompany him.”

Kara’s brows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Really now? You’re risking the wrath of most of the greater gods, including your own parents, to help some mortal who may not even want it?”

“Kara, how many centuries have the greater gods lived up here on Mount Krypton?” Kal asked. “How long has it been since they walked amongst their creation? When was the last time any of them saw the struggles of humankind up close?” He paused with a sad frown. “Kara, I fear many of them have lost their empathy for the short-lived mortals. They’ve distanced themselves from their subjects and no longer understand what these people truly need or want.

“I feel we have a greater obligation than pointing them in the right direction and sending them on their way. These people rely on us for strength and guidance, and we have a duty to offer both to the best of our abilities. That is why I am going to find this king and help him however I’m able, even if he tries to insist on doing it alone.”

There was a pause as Kara stared him down, seemingly gauging his sincerity, before breaking out into a fond grin. “If you thought any differently, I’d fear you were not Kal at all, but a clever copy. I understand, cousin, and I agree.” She clasped his shoulder and added, “For what it’s worth, you have _my_ blessing. Go and help the champion of men, Kal-El – help him guide humankind to victory.”

Kal smiled and reached out to clasp her shoulder in return before slowly pulling away. Kara let her hand fall away and watched as Kal drew on his power to change his appearance. He didn’t change too much, for the sake of making the spell easy to maintain – he simply smothered his godly aura, causing the dim glow of his skin to fade away.

“And who is this perfectly normal mortal man?” Kara asked teasingly. “How shall I address you, sir?”

“I am Clark,” Kal replied with a grin, dropping to his knees in an exaggerated show of respect. “It is an honor to meet an esteemed goddess such as yourself.”

Kara laughed and shoved him towards the gates. “Alright then, off you go, Clark. You’ll have to find this champion before he gets too far. Good luck, cousin!”

Her words were all that gave Kal the strength to keep smiling, even as he passed through the gates and entered the mortal realm for the first time in many years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say his skin glows, just think like Disney's Hercules. I borrowed the idea because it was fun.


	2. The King of Gotham

Kal made good time through the countryside that surrounded Mount Krypton, ignoring more well-traveled roads in favor of making his way to Gotham as directly as possible. He hoped to intercept the king at the mainland, near the docks where ferries regularly ran to the island. Between the time it would take for his mother to deliver her message, for the oracle to pass it on, and for the king to prepare for travel, Kal was confident he could be ready and waiting when the king arrived. He found a set of low cliffs along the path near the docks and sat down to wait just as the sun began to rise once more.

Kal allowed himself to look at the sun for just a moment, smiling as he thought of Kara pulling it up into the sky, grumbling that a goddess of the moon and the hunt had better things to be doing, but still fulfilling her promise to him. It brought a warmth to his chest that he clung to as his gaze fell to the docks, where a nondescript boat was pulling up, carrying only one passenger. The large silhouette disembarked as soon as the boat slowed down, offering coin to the ferryman and quickly striding up the docks and onto the road.

Kal did nothing to conceal himself, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the cliffs as he charted the stranger’s progress. He’d never seen this king himself, but he knew well the centuries-old symbol of the island nation’s royalty.

Long ago, the island was attacked by nychterída – enormous, batlike creatures that feasted on human flesh. The people of Gotham were mercilessly slaughtered until one warrior rose to the occasion, slaying the beasts with great skill and determination. With the aid of his equally skilled sons and daughters, the warrior drove the nychterída from Gotham, and as a mark of their gratitude and respect, the people crowned him king. The warrior wanted no crown, and instead beheaded one of the nychterída and fashioned a helmet from the remains. To this day, that helmet was the mark of Gotham’s king, and to Kal’s relief, graced the brow of the stranger who drew near.

The king was a large, formidable-looking man, to be sure, clad in black armor and moving with purpose, but he was not quite as young as Kal had imagined – curls of greyed hair escaped the confines of his helm, and his face was slightly creased by time and the burdens of duty. However, this did nothing to detract from the handsome curve of his jaw or the toned strength in his arms, both of which held more of Kal’s attention than they ought.

He looked up at Kal as he approached, and though it was only a fleeting glance, Kal somehow felt _seen_ by that piercing gaze in a way he couldn’t describe. He was pinned in place by the intensity of those eyes, only freed when the king’s head turned and he continued moving down the road.

Kal shook himself from his stupor and called out “Hail, traveler! Where does such a warrior go so early in the morning?”

The king stopped but didn’t turn back as he replied, “What business is it of a stranger such as yourself?”

“I am Clark, a warrior and a seeker of knowledge,” Kal said. “In my travels I have heard rumor of a great war on the horizon, and a champion who is to guide us to victory – who must find the godkiller so humanity can stand a chance.” He paused for effect and added, “Unless I’m mistaken, you are the one they speak of, are you not?”

The king was silent, but he slowly turned to meet Kal’s gaze. His expression revealed nothing, though his eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “What do you want?”

Kal had to bite down his initial response and reassess the situation. He was going to say something altruistic, but in the short time he’d spent with the king of Gotham, he realized this was a deeply suspicious man who didn’t trust easily – such an answer might sound insincere to someone like him. Instead, Kal leaned forward with a small but genuine smile. “I told you, I am a seeker of knowledge – I have heard the stories of the many things you will surely encounter on this quest, I know much about them, but nothing compares to seeing them in the flesh. I wish to accompany you on your journey and document these things myself.”

“Why should I let you come? You’ll only slow me down.”

“All of my knowledge will be available to you – I’m sure we’ve heard different things about your trials, and between the two of us I’m certain we can put together a more complete picture of what to expect. And I don’t mean to boast, but my armor isn’t for show – I am a skilled warrior in my own right. If I’m slowing you down, it won’t be in battle.”

The king fell silent again, his gaze assessing as it slowly dragged down the length of Kal’s body and back up. Kal fought to suppress a shiver and remain relaxed under the scrutiny. After what felt like an eternity, something in his gaze changed and the king met Kal’s eyes once more.

“Very well, Clark. If you’re truly as talented as you say, you will be a valuable ally. I will not be held accountable for your safety, however. I cannot guarantee you will survive this quest,” the king said gravely.

Kal smiled and scooted forwards off the cliff, landing nimbly on his feet near the king. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect any differently, your highness,” he assured him.

The king frowned, but less in a disapproving way and more in a way reminiscent of someone swallowing a lemon. “I am no king here, only a man seeking to fulfil his duty. Call me Bruce, or call me nothing at all.”

“Very well, Bruce,” Kal agreed.

The two were content to travel in silence for awhile as the sun continued to climb in the sky, but when they took a brief stop to eat, Kal finally broached the most pertinent topic.

“So, what do you know about the first trial?” he asked, trying to keep the question light as he ate his last fig.

“The Prósopa is a cunning creature formed of clay, capable of making itself look like anything it lays eyes upon – man, animal, creature, or object. The challenge lies in finding it and not mistaking it for your comrades,” Bruce said as if by rote. “It dwells in an underground labyrinth where it’s easy for parties to be separated, where it picks them off one by one.”

Kal nodded grimly. “Sounds about right.”

“The one thing I’m unsure of is how exactly to kill it. If it is made of clay, surely a sword or spear wouldn’t be capable of doing damage it couldn’t repair?” Bruce said with a thoughtful frown.

“Yes,” Kal agreed, “which is why you must aim for its one vulnerable spot. The creature is held together by magic, which requires some kind of anchor – in this case, a stone which it keeps hidden somewhere in its mass. If you can destroy the stone, you can cut off the flow of magic, and it will become a harmless pile of earth.”

“Hmm, so once we find it, we’ll have to figure out where the stone is inside it,” Bruce hummed. “And we’ll need a contingency plan in case it manages to turn into one of us.”

“I hope you’ve got some good ideas, because many men have tried and failed to trick it,” Kal reminded him.

It was quiet again for a time while Bruce mulled it over, but Kal was content to finish his meal in peace. Just as he’d eaten his last bit of bread, the king slowly spoke.

“The Prósopa can turn into anything it _sees_ …Clark, does that mean it becomes a perfect copy, or does it only take on visible traits?”

Kal thought for a moment. “I…could not say. Every story I hear does use the same phrases, though – ‘anything it sees,’ ‘whatever it lays eyes upon.’ So…I suppose an argument could be made for the latter. Why?”

Bruce’s lips quirked into a sharp smile that made Kal shiver. “I think we’ve found our way to trick the beast,” he rumbled, pulling open his pack and digging out two small rags for weapon maintenance. He tossed one to Kal, who barely caught it in his surprise, then turned back to his bag and kept looking until he pulled out a small stick of charcoal.

“We’ll have to let it think it knows our code while having a backup in place,” he muttered, pressing the charcoal to his left bicep and carefully drawing a simple outline of a bat, similar to the symbol hammered into his breastplate. When he was done, he tossed the stick to Kal, who was able to catch it with a little more grace this time.

“Draw this in the same spot on the same arm,” he instructed, carefully laying the cloth over the mark and tying it in place. “When you’re done, tie that rag on over it. If we get separated and reconvene, check first for the rag, then ask them to remove it. If the Prósopa can only imitate things which are visible, it shouldn’t have anything under the cloth.”

Kal followed his instructions, prepping his own arm and packing up his gear. “From here, we should be able to reach the labyrinth by nightfall,” he noted. Bruce nodded as he gathered his things.

“We’ll have to be quick. I’d rather not wander about after dark if I can help it.”

They resumed their fairly brisk pace as Bruce led them across the countryside, further and further from the well-worn commerce routes and deeper into the wilderness.

Bolstered by their lunchtime conversation, Kal dared to chat with the king a bit as they went. He wasn’t content to let this man be a perfect stranger – this was a mortal that his mother had hand-chosen to save humanity from the wrath of a god. There had to be more to him than the gruff tactician he seemed to be. She may value cunning and strength, but Lara Lor-Van was not such a shallow woman.

He started with easy and obvious things, asking who watched over Gotham while her king was off on his noble quest. Bruce did not turn back to look at Kal when he responded. “My son Richard is more than capable of ruling in my absence,” he said dismissively, though he couldn’t completely hide a certain pride and warmth in his voice. Even though Bruce wasn’t looking, Kal turned his head to hide his smile anyways.

The king’s answer begged the obvious follow up, which Kal had _absolutely_ no ulterior motives for asking. “What about your wife? If your son sits on the throne, is she not fit to rule?”

It was difficult to read his reaction by only seeing his back like this, but Kal was fairly certain Bruce tensed slightly. He was quiet for a moment, as though he wouldn’t answer, but slowly he admitted, “I have none. Richard is not my son by blood – his parents were killed and he had no other family to take him in. I…knew the acute loneliness of losing your parents too young, and made it my responsibility to raise him in their stead.”

“That is a noble thing to do,” Kal quietly replied, walking a little faster so he could stand at Bruce’s side and see his face in profile. Bruce huffed in what might have been amusement, but his face looked a bit too bitter.

“I think the boy did more for me than I ever did for him. He reminded me that there were happier things in life – that I didn’t have to constantly live in the shadows. I…I’m very proud of the man he’s become, and I can’t take much credit for it. Richard had always been a compassionate, thoughtful boy,” he sighed.

“Well, it seems like the man raising him was the type of person to pluck a random orphan off the streets and name him his heir simply because he knew the struggles the boy would face and wanted to bring him some measure of safety and comfort,” Kal innocently noted. “That seems like a fine role model in compassion.”

Bruce still faced the road ahead, but his eyes slid to look at Kal and narrowed in suspicion.

“I have no ulterior motive, I assure you,” Kal insisted with a chuckle, “I am only drawing a conclusion from the information I’ve been given.”

Bruce grumbled but didn’t push the issue, letting his gaze return to the road ahead. Kal allowed him a moment of respite before he quietly asked, “So, no wife, but surely there is someone who is awaiting your return?”

Bruce pursed his lips but obliged him with another answer. “Aside from my son and the servant who raised me, I have no personal attachments. I lead my army when we march to war, and these last few decades have been tumultuous times, often demanding we fight to protect our borders or aid our allies – it didn’t seem wise or fair to become…involved with someone when there was a chance that I may march off to war one day and never return.”

“Is that why you agreed to this?” Kal asked. “You didn’t feel you had much to lose by embarking on a quest to kill a god?”

Bruce shook his head slowly. “I’m not suicidal – my son deserves to enjoy life for some time yet before I let the burden of the crown fall to him. I know my people still need me. But it’s for these very same reasons that I left.”

Kal’s brow furrowed in confusion. Bruce still wasn’t looking at him, but his silence must have been telling because the king snorted softly and elaborated.

“Dru-Zod is coming. Nothing is going to change that. _Someone_ has to lead the charge against him. _Someone_ has to be willing to face him on the battlefield. Fighting a god, who will have _centuries_ of battle experience compared to our mere decades, will be no easy task, true. Whoever faces down Zod may not walk away from the encounter,” he enumerated. “But if Zod isn’t stopped, he will tear this world apart until he is satisfied. My son won’t be able to enjoy life. My people will be in peril. The entire human race might be wiped out. If _someone_ up in Krypton decided I was the one who could prevent that, then I will not shirk my duty. If I have to be the one to die so that the world can live, then so be it.”

Kal exhaled sharply, feeling as though fire was singing through his veins. He silently cursed himself for pursuing this line of questioning. It was fine to be attracted to a mortal – the number of demigods running around could attest to the frequency of the practice – and Bruce was an extremely handsome man. Kal had eyes. Nobody would blame him for a little tryst during his visit. But it was becoming dreadfully apparent that the man had more to offer than alluring eyes and broad shoulders, making things much more complicated than they had any right to be.

He was beginning to understand why his mother chose the king of Gotham and not some other talented warrior – it wasn’t just about the strength of his arm, but also about the strength of his heart. Bruce was told that he would lead all of humanity in a fight for their very survival, that _he_ would likely be the one to clash with Dru-Zod himself, yet he still accepted this daunting task. He had the most dangerous role to play in this war, but he didn’t care because he fought not for his own sake, but for his son, for his people, for thousands of others he’d never even met. He was willing to give up his life for perfect strangers, simply because it was the right thing to do – because he felt the sacrifice of the one was an acceptable tradeoff for the preservation of the many.

He was noble, he was kind, he was brave, yet he acted as though these weren’t special qualities – he was everything Kal could ever think to want in a partner, all bundled in the most handsome package he’d ever laid eyes upon. Yes, Kal was _absolutely_ in trouble here – his mind felt as though it was stuck in a loop, circling around these thoughts but coming to no helpful conclusions. He spent the remainder of their journey trying to distract himself from this alarming development by prattling on about stories he’d heard in his travels. Bruce seemed content to let him ramble, so he filled the quiet and let Bruce guide their path.

Just as Kal predicted, the sun was just disappearing over the horizon when they came across a nondescript tunnel in the side of a cliff. From the outside it could easily pass for a bear cave, but both of the travelers knew better. Bruce met Kal’s eyes, and Kal nodded in return. Bruce pulled his spear off his back and lit a torch, holding it aloft as Kal unsheathed his sword and lit another torch off Bruce’s. With a deep breath, Bruce took the first steps into the cavern’s dark maw, Kal following close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to think of some clever way for them to trick Clayface, but my brain got stuck on the Alabasta arc of One Piece and it was all over. Thanks for doing the hard part for me, Oda.


	3. The Trial of Wit

The tunnel went straight forward for a few minutes, looking like nothing more than a natural formation in the rock, before they found the entrance to the labyrinth proper. Carved blocks of stone were set into the cave walls, creating a branching path that shot off in two directions from where they stood.

Until this point, Kal had been so focused on how to beat the Prósopa that he’d forgotten that the creature lived at the center of a maze. He stopped short at the entrance, a question on the tip of his tongue, but it died before it could pass his lips as the king abruptly turned down the passage to their right and reached out with his right hand, holding his torch with just his pointer finger and thumb and letting the rest of his fingers gently drag along the wall to his right. Kal moved to keep up and lifted his torch high as he quietly asked, “I take it you know how to navigate the maze?”

He couldn’t see Bruce’s face, but he heard the mildly amused huff. “If the stories are to be trusted, this is a traditional labyrinth – there’s only a single, non-branching path to the center, with a single entry and exit point. This means we can use one of the oldest methods for solving a maze – the wall follower.”

Kal eyed the hand that was still trailing along the stone. “A fairly literal name, I assume?”

“Well, strictly speaking, you don’t _have_ to touch the wall, but it helps to keep track. As long as you keep moving along the same wall, it’s impossible to get lost, and you’re guaranteed to find the exit. Or the center, in this case. When we leave from the center, we can just switch sides to come back along the same wall,” Bruce explained. “I’ve got chalk ready in case we encounter the Prósopa before the center, so I can mark which wall we were following in which direction.”

“Seems like that could take awhile,” Kal remarked, watching as Bruce followed the path into a dead end and back out.

“It’s a little time-consuming, but better than wildly guessing which turns to take and not remembering which you’ve already tried,” he replied, arching a brow as he passed Kal and moved along down the corridor. “When I have the luxury of it, I’d rather take a little more time to ensure I won’t be wasting it later.”

“That’s sensible enough,” Kal agreed as he came up behind Bruce. The king turned his head to look back over his shoulder, eyeing Kal intently. He met the look with an inquisitive tilt of his head, but something about it left him feeling unaccountably flustered. He ran a nervous tongue over his lips, and he _swore_ those sharp eyes were drawn to the movement, but before he could get himself too worked up Bruce mumbled, “Make sure you stay close,” and turned away again.

Kal couldn’t bring himself to respond aside from a quick nod (which he immediately realized was moot when his audience wasn’t looking), and for an indeterminable amount of time, they silently delved further into the labyrinth, both sweeping their gazes and torches to and fro as they went.

After what felt like ages, Kal heard something in the darkness behind them – a loose rock clattering against the floor. He turned on his heel and held out his torch, but nothing seemed amiss. Tilting his head to speak over his shoulder without taking his eyes off the passage before him, he harshly whispered, “Hold, Bruce, the creature might be near.”

He expected a wordless grunt in reply, but the air was unnervingly still. Reluctant to potentially turn his back on the Prósopa but fearing the worst, Kal slowly looked over his shoulder and felt his stomach drop when he saw nothing but empty darkness. He’d only looked away for a moment, and Bruce hadn’t been moving very quickly, so how did they manage to get separated?

Kal shakily exhaled and looked back down towards the source of the sound. He hadn’t heard anything else since the initial clatter, and he didn’t want to risk further separation by walking in the opposite direction, so Kal turned around again and copied Bruce, loosely holding his sword so he could trail some of his fingers along the wall to his right. He tried to move at a clip, hoping that Bruce noticed he was gone and either slowed or stopped so he could catch up. He occasionally threw a glance over his shoulder, in case the Prósopa was still pursuing him, but the further along he went, the more he felt the sinking suspicion it had only been a ruse indented to separate them. His anxiety grew as he covered more and more ground without encountering Bruce, though he did spot clean marks in the dirt and dust that coated the walls, indicating that someone was still dragging a hand through the grime. Whether the hand was still Bruce’s or not remained to be seen.

Kal lost track of time again as he went, divided as his attention was, but he felt something in his chest unclench just a bit when he saw the edge of a pool of light just around the corner. He picked up the pace, still sticking to the wall, until a familiar silhouette stood out against the torchlight. His eyes immediately flitted to Bruce’s left bicep, spotting the cloth, but he didn’t mention it as he approached, trying to seem outwardly calm.

“It’s about time I found you again. Didn’t realize you were moving so fast,” he said, standing as close as he could without arousing suspicion. Bruce responded with a grunt that almost sounded apologetic, but he didn’t stop moving. Kal casually reached out to tap the cloth and added, “Surely we don’t need these anymore, now that we’ve reunited? It wouldn’t do the Prósopa any good to turn into one of us if we’re together.”

Bruce tilted his head to look where Kal was touching him and pursed his lips, but eventually nodded and tugged at the knot, slowly pulling the rag off his arm and letting it fall to the floor.

The arm underneath was bare, devoid of even smudged charcoal.

Kal immediately fell back and lashed out with his sword, taking off Bruce–no, the Prósopa’s left arm. The limb fell with a wet thump, the stump oozing a thick brown instead of bright crimson sprays. Familiar lips curled into a gurgled laugh, and Kal watched in horror as Bruce’s features melted and warped, stretching and changing until the monster stood before him in all its awful glory. The large, misshapen mass of clay was vaguely man-shaped, but the proportions were all wrong, and a pair of glowing eyes peered out from where the face should be. A slit opened just beneath the eyes, splitting into some horrible approximation of a grin.

“ _What a little trick_ ,” it garbled with a voice that sounded like a wet marsh. “ _But it won’t help you now. I will still kill you, mortal._ ” It lashed out with its arms, trying to knock Kal off his feet. He dropped his torch, which thankfully didn’t splutter out when it hit the floor, and grabbed his shield off his back, pulling it down just in time to take the brunt of the attack before it could hit his chest. He grit his teeth and lashed out with his sword, striking halfway down the limbs and severing them. The loose bits of clay fell to the floor before slowly crawling back to the main mass while the Prósopa’s arms reformed. It laughed again with a wet, bubbling sound.

“ _You can’t kill me, mortal. None who walk this earth can_ ,” it cackled.

“ **Watch us** ,” a third voice growled just before the point of a spear exploded out of the Prósopa’s chest. Kal felt the last bit of tension leave his body as the spear was pulled to the side, flinging a generous chunk of clay onto the wall and making a hole in the Prósopa’s body large enough for Kal to catch a glimpse of a familiar helm.

The Prósopa quickly reformed, but it seemed a bit worried now, shifting its stance to keep both of them in sight. Bruce didn’t give it time to recuperate – he struck again, embedding the tip of his spear in the Prósopa’s torso and twisting before pulling away another clump of clay. He ducked behind his shield when the creature howled and lashed out at him, easily deflecting the spray of muck.

“Clark!” he shouted, “Keep pulling it apart! It’s slower to reform if its body is completely scattered.”

Kal’s brows jumped in shock, but he didn’t hesitate to stab at the monster, taking its arm again and flinging it back over his shoulder as far down the corridor as he could. They wordlessly moved together in a lethal dance, alternating striking and backing off so they wouldn’t accidentally hit each other. The Prósopa was struggling to keep up, trying to attack but finding its reach and strength diminishing as more of its body was carved away. Kal occasionally dared to look at Bruce’s face when he backed off and noticed that the king’s attention was only half on their opponent – his eyes frequently darted away to the smattering of clay that was now coating the walls and floor, inspecting it with a keen gaze.

 _The stone!_ Kal recalled with sharp clarity – so that was Bruce’s strategy. By pulling the Prósopa apart like this, it thinned out the body and made for fewer places to hide its anchor. Kal followed Bruce’s lead, hacking away at the monster while keeping an eye out for a gleam in the torchlight. He stepped back to allow Bruce to strike, but his foot landed in a deep puddle of clay. He only had half a moment to curl his lip in disgust before the Prósopa noticed his distraction and took the opening – it shot out and struck his chest, pushing him flat onto his back and forcing the air from his lungs. Clay seeped into his armor and clumped in his hair, and a controlled wave covered his face in the stuff. Kal gasped and wiped frantically at his mouth and nose, trying to keep it from suffocating him, but stopped himself from sitting up when he noticed a glimmer.

From his new vantage point, Kal saw part of a smooth, bright rock embedded in the wall, only half-covered by the muck. He tried to speak, but more clay clamped around his mouth and nose, while the stuff on the floor was doing its best to pin him. He let go of his sword and pulled with all his might, freeing his arm from the hold and immediately moving to pull the clay off of his face.

The moment he was able to speak, he gasped, “Bruce, to your left! The wall!”

The clay reformed over his mouth, but not quickly enough. The king’s eyes unerringly found the exact spot they needed to – he reached out with his spear and flicked the stone away, where it landed on the floor by his feet in a miraculously clean spot. The Prósopa roared in outrage, its entire mass surging to protect its anchor, but it was already too late. Bruce readjusted his grip, aiming his spear down at the stone, then brought it down with one sharp, powerful movement. With a loud crack, the anchor shattered, and the effect was immediate. There wasn’t even time for a death rattle – one moment, glowing eyes burned with rage and a sea of clay writhed in fury, and the next it was completely inert. Clay fell to the floor with a heavy thump, releasing its hold on Kal, who took the chance to drag in a few lungfuls of air.

All was quiet for a moment, save for the twin sets of heavy breaths, but eventually a set of footsteps sloshed through the muck to stand at Kal’s side. In the dim torchlight, he could barely make out Bruce’s satisfied expression, but he could definitely see the hand extended to help him up. He smiled and took it, delighted at the ease with which Bruce hauled him off the floor. For a moment, neither of them let go, Kal quietly enjoying the warmth of Bruce’s palm and his proximity, but eventually Bruce pulled away, looking Kal over with a critical eye.

“Are you unharmed?” he asked gruffly, avoiding eye contact.

Kal felt himself smile without really meaning to as he replied, “Aside from the mess, I’m fine. You?”

“It attacked me briefly after we were separated, but it was a very halfhearted attempt.” Bruce paused and frowned. “I also owe you an apology, Clark.”

“For what?” Kal asked, bewildered.

“I know I said I couldn’t guarantee your safety, but that didn’t mean I should just abandon you and leave you to fend for yourself. I should have been quicker to notice that you’d stopped. I should have gone back instead of forging ahead,” he said with a deepening frown. “It was thoughtless of me, and for that, you have my deepest apologies.” Kal tried to refute him, tried to say it probably wasn’t entirely his fault, that the Prósopa probably interfered somehow using a trick that had worked hundreds of times before, but a small smirk quirked the corners of Bruce’s lips and stole all coherent thought from Kal’s mind.

“Though I must say,” Bruce continued, “you didn’t seem to need protection anyways. You weren’t bluffing about your skill – that was impressive work.” Kal might have called his tone a _purr_ if it was anyone besides the king of Gotham. As it was, the adrenaline from the fight was still burning through Kal’s veins, Bruce was still standing very close with that infuriating smirk, and damn if he didn’t feel a little impulsive right now.

Without really giving it conscious permission, Kal’s body leaned forward, closing what little distance remained so he could press his lips to Bruce’s. They were warm, a little dry, and there was a slight prickle of stubble that was driving him crazy. Bruce froze just long enough for Kal’s confidence to falter slightly, but it was instantly bolstered when he heard a clatter and a strong hand gripped at his hip to haul him closer. Kal gasped at the intensity with which Bruce returned the kiss, then hummed happily when Bruce took the chance to push his way into Kal’s mouth. He backed them up against the nearest wall, pressing Kal into it and surrounding him with his warm body and wide shoulders. Kal let his free hand curl around the back of Bruce’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer with a deep groan.

Kal could feel himself shaking. Every kiss felt as though it was pulling the air out of his lungs. All the people he’d lain with, mortal and myth alike, somehow couldn’t compare to the man that stood before him now. It had never felt so passionate, so _intense_. Kal felt as though he could spend the rest of eternity here in Bruce’s embrace and never tire of the experience.

Unfortunately, mortals needed air, so Bruce eventually pulled away and Kal summoned every last shred of willpower to keep himself from chasing his lips. His eyes slowly fluttered open, lingering on what details he could make out of Bruce’s face in the torchlight. His gaze was as sharp as ever, but his pupils were blown wide under hooded lids. Sweat beaded across his forehead, and Kal could barely catch the slightest flush across those sharp cheekbones. The rest of his features were cast into deep shadow, but there was no mistaking the desire etched into the curve of his lips, the gentle arch of his brows.

“Now, far be it from me to complain about your decision,” Bruce rumbled, “but I don’t think this is the best time or place to continue the festivities.”

Kal frowned, but couldn’t deny the wisdom of the suggestion. He nodded, which prompted Bruce to finally take a step back, snapping them both out of their daze. They took a moment to rearrange themselves, putting their shields on their backs and retrieving and cleaning their weapons, before Bruce spoke again.

“Now, the Prósopa was supposed to be guarding part of the key I need to enter the temple of the Foniás,” Bruce said, casting his gaze over the sludge-covered corridor. “If this monster was hiding its anchor in its body, I think it probably hid the key there too, but I have no idea what this thing is supposed to look like…”

“If my memory serves me, the door to the temple is something of a puzzle, and the key is the missing piece,” Kal explained. “It will be an oddly-shaped stone slab, about the size of two hands side by side, so the piece here will be smaller than that.”

“Small piece of stone…” Bruce repeated absentmindedly, already crouching down to comb through the clay. Kal grabbed his torch from the floor and held it up to offer Bruce more light, inspecting the globs on the nearest wall. Fortunately, it was a short search, as Bruce muttered a quiet “Ah” and pulled his hand from the muck. The piece was carved from a stone so dark it almost appeared black, with oddly-shaped edges and slots where it appeared something was supposed to lock in. Bruce tugged the cloth off his arm, revealing a now smudged bat, and wiped the piece off before putting it in his bag. He stood and shook as much clay as he could off his hands before asking, “Could you lend me your torch a moment? I left mine behind when I began hunting in earnest.”

Kal obliged him, handing it over and watching as Bruce turned and walked a short way down the corridor, back where he’d initially come from. He held the light close to the walls, checking on either side of him before apparently finding what he was looking for. Kal stepped around the mess as best as he could and came to look over Bruce’s shoulder. He was inspecting a hastily-drawn white triangle, pointing back towards the Prósopa’s remains. He noticed Kal and explained, “I marked the wall before revealing myself. We’ll follow this wall in this direction to get back out,” he said, lifting the torch and pressing his left hand to the stone. “We can wash up and get some sleep once we’re back outside.”

Kal moved wrong and heard a wet squelch from somewhere under his breastplate. He grimaced, but it was hard to remain disgruntled when Bruce chuckled at his predicament.

“Exactly,” Bruce said, making a similarly wet sound as he rolled his shoulder. He moved past Kal with the torch held high – as he did, he glanced at Kal from the corner of his eye. “Perhaps we can pick up where we left off once we’re both clean?” His tone was perfectly innocent, but the hunger in his sharp smile was anything but. He let his shoulder brush against Kal as he passed, gently jostling him.

Kal never thought he’d be so eager to find a river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am now armed with knowledge of how to escape a maze and I wish there was somewhere I could put it to use.


	4. The Trial of Strength

Kal slowly blinked his way to awareness. Sunlight filtered through the branches overhead, leaving him pleasantly warm. He mentally catalogued every delicious ache in his body, carefully stretching without disturbing his companion. He glanced down at the head pillowed on his chest, smiling softly at the gentle puffs of air warming his skin.

Bruce was handsome in an intense way when he was awake, but when he was asleep it became something infinitely more devastating and tender. His jaw and cheekbones still stood out in sharp relief, highlighted by the morning light, but the creases around his eyes were softened, and the severity was smoothed from his brow. Loose curls of salt and pepper hair brushed his forehead and stuck to his temples, soft and fluffed in some places and sweat-slicked in others. Unable to resist the temptation, Kal let a hand drift up and run through the silken locks, pushing them back from the peaceful face. This went on for a few minutes before Bruce finally groaned softly, eyebrows furrowing for a moment before his eyes reluctantly slid open to squint into the distance. Kal couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

“Good morning, your highness,” he teased, grinning when that elicited a grumble of protest. Bruce rolled off Kal to land on his back in the grass, then reached his arms above his head for a full-body stretch, arching his back like a lazy cat in a patch of sunlight. Kal didn’t even pretend he wasn’t watching the mouthwatering stretch of muscle, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on one hand. His gaze slowly trailed down Bruce’s torso and along his thighs, lingering on every bruise and bite and scratch he spotted along the way – on all the old scars, faded with time, that spoke of the many battles he’d survived.

“Are you quite finished?” Bruce asked with a raised brow, but Kal could tell he wasn’t truly annoyed – _his_ eyes were following a similar path along Kal’s body, likely noting the matching marks he’d left. Kal offered him a bright, mischievous smile.

“For now, at least,” he replied, sitting up and popping his back while casting his gaze about in search of their clothing, which they’d left out to dry last night after washing out all the mud. Bruce drew his attention to them with a vague gesture, though he made no move to rise when Kal got up. The god chuckled as he dressed himself, admiring the view as Bruce laid in the grass for a moment longer before sighing and forcing himself to stand, though even then the movement was so graceful and smooth that Kal couldn’t help but think of lithe jungle cats. The king quietly gathered his things and redressed as well, staring thoughtfully into the distance.

“So, the test of wit is behind us – ahead lies the test of strength,” Kal noted, strapping on his armor with quick, practiced motions.

“Yes – this one should be a little more straightforward,” Bruce agreed, “To the northwest there’s another cavern which houses a fearsome monster whose might is unparalleled – the Dolofónos.” 

“Yes. He was supposedly a man once, but he was depraved and feasted on his own kind. The gods cursed him to have a form which matched his habits – something more beast than man. As the years pass, he remembers less and less of being a man and sinks further into becoming a beast,” Kal elaborated. “He doesn’t fight with much strategy, but he has the strength and frenzy of a wild animal.”

“Which means we’ll have to play this smart,” Bruce said. “One good hit would put us down in an instant, so we’ll have to be careful.”

Kal nodded, grabbing the last of his gear and watching as Bruce carefully slid his helmet into place. They wouldn’t have to go too far – the cavern was at the heart of a mountain range that was about half a day’s travel from here. Kal thought he’d get antsy traveling by foot at a human’s pace, but today he relished the chance to relax and talk with Bruce some more. He was worried about the Dolofónos, anxiety over the coming battle gnawing at a distant corner of his mind, but right at this moment all he had to do was walk and bask in Bruce’s company.

After their previous day (and night), he felt confident enough to ask more prying questions. He learned more about Alfred, the man who was essentially Bruce’s father and without whom Bruce was sure he could never run Gotham half so efficiently. He learned of Jason, Bruce’s second son, who he took in after he caught the child scraping the gold gilding off his chariot. He also learned of Jason’s tragic death at the hands of the most dangerous criminal in all of Gotham, and of the guilt Bruce still bore like a cross all these years later.

Some of Bruce’s stories were amusing – Jason’s escapades when he first moved into the palace, Richard’s enamored attempts to woo the island’s red-haired oracle, Alfred’s ability to end all nonsense with a single raised brow. Some were a little more bittersweet – the many nights Bruce had to hold his sons to keep nightmares at bay, the nights Alfred had held _him_ for the same reason. However, no matter the tone, each and every story was another important part of Bruce’s life, facets to the complex man that Kal could admit he was falling for. He cherished every bit that Bruce was willing to share, and did his best to let Bruce know – he laughed when Richard got stuck in a window for hours until Alfred happened upon him, he fought back tears when Bruce cradled Jason’s unmoving body in his arms, he bit his lip in secondhand embarrassment when Richard fumbled a pickup line so badly that Barbara thought he was insulting her, but most importantly, he never once looked away from Bruce’s face as he talked, eager to absorb every word that fell from his lips, every expression that crossed his face.

Bruce was in the middle of describing one of Jason’s more complex pranks when he abruptly cut himself off. Kal tilted his head in a silent question.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” Bruce admitted with a rueful grin. “Richard would probably die from shock if he saw how talkative I’ve been.”

“I’m certainly not complaining,” Kal assured him.

“I can’t fathom why,” Bruce said with an edge of playful suspicion. Kal huffed a laugh, coaxing a soft grin from Bruce before he continued, “I’ve only known you a few days, but for some reason being around you feels…comfortable. Natural.” Bruce sobered up a bit before admitting, “I haven’t felt that way with someone in a very long time, aside from Alfred and my kids.”

Kal was fairly certain he’d stopped breathing. His mind was blank, but he managed to choke out a quiet “I’m glad I can offer you such peace.” Bruce’s answering smile was small, but honest, and Kal wanted nothing more than to sweep the man back into his arms and kiss him until they were both breathless. After a brief internal struggle, responsibility won out over the urge, but only by a narrow margin.

There was enough daylight left to navigate by when they reached the mountains. Narrow, steep paths led them deep into the sierra, where the air seemed to grow thicker and more oppressive. The stench of rotting flesh was distinct by the time they reached their destination – a massive sealed door set in the side of the tallest peak. It was smooth but for the damage of time and weather, made of a dark stone that didn’t match the surrounding rock with an oddly-shaped depression in the center. Kal glanced at Bruce and saw that the king was ahead of him – he was already rifling through his pack until he produced the key fragment they’d taken from the Prósopa.

He held it up to the depression and began turning it, trying to see how it fit. After a few moments, he decisively pushed the key in, slotting it perfectly into the available space with a quiet scrape of stone on stone. There was a gentle humming sound and the key began to glow an unearthly green. Tendrils of green spread from it, reaching out to cover the door in a symmetrical, geometric pattern. When the trails reached the edges of the door, the humming stopped, and there was a deep rumbling. The glowing marks vanished, and with a mighty groan, the door split down the middle and swung inwards. The key unceremoniously fell from its slot, landing in the dirt with a muffled sound. Bruce leaned down and silently retrieved it, carefully tucking it away again. Kal glanced at him again.

“So, strategy?” he asked in a hushed tone, afraid to disturb the oppressive silence.

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly grounding himself. He reached over his shoulders and drew his shield and spear, wielding them in his firm grip before his eyes slowly slid open again, blazing with intensity. Determination was etched into every line of his face, and his stance spoke to his conviction.

“Get in quick, strike hard, then get out,” he said. His gaze slid sideways to meet Kal’s for a moment, and he could’ve sworn those piercing eyes softened for a fraction of a second. “Above all else, be careful.”

Kal readied his own shield and sword, steadily meeting Bruce’s gaze, praying the king could see his resolve. “No matter what happens, I stand with you, Bruce. The Dolofónos doesn’t stand a chance against our might combined.”

Bruce’s lips quirked into the briefest of smiles, and it made Kal’s breath falter. He briefly considered offering a kiss for luck, but Bruce had already begun advancing, so Kal stifled a longing sigh and fell into step with him.

Shoulder to shoulder, they marched into the gaping maw before them. Unlike the labyrinth, this cave was all natural rock formations and already lit, torches lining the walls and leading them down the passage until they reached an enormous room ringed with light. Some rock formations protruded from the floor or hung from the ceiling, some bones were strewn about, but overall the cavern was fairly sparse, dominated by an open area in the middle. Kal’s gaze swept along the perimeter, determined to not be caught off guard, but all he could find was a large pool of water along the back wall. He nudged Bruce, who nodded in acknowledgement.

They slowly made their way across the room, approaching the pool with their weapons at the ready. A deep growl shook the cavern, sending a rain of dirt and pebbles cascading over them, and Kal and Bruce both tensed. The surface of the water rippled, and an echoing boom sounded from somewhere deep underground. Kal lowered himself into a ready stance, eyes glued to the pool as the booms came progressively closer. The ground shook beneath their feet and Kal grit his teeth in anticipation.

Suddenly, something massive and dark surged up out of the pool with an ear-splitting roar that reverberated off the cavern walls. It leapt from the water and landed on its feet with a heavy thud, drawing deep, rasping breaths. It rose to its full height, towering over the warriors and blotting out the light with its bulk.

Kal had vaguely known what to expect – that the Dolofónos was a mighty beast that had slain many men – but no tale could have prepared him for what stood before him now.

There was enough light that Kal could see that the Dolofónos’ skin was covered in dense, armor-like scales, with vicious spikes protruding from its back and arms. A thick, powerful tail trailed along behind it, nearly disappearing into the water. Its face was still almost man-shaped, but the features were too distorted to mistake it for anything but a monster – beady yellow eyes were sunk deep into their sockets, and the mouth that opened in a savage grin was filled with sharp teeth large enough to be spearheads.

“ **Finally, a fresh meal** ,” it hissed, voice distorted by a deep growl. “ **I know the scent of man flesh well**.”

“By the gods…” Bruce muttered in shock, though his face betrayed none of it. “ **I’ll rip you apart and devour even your bones!** ” it roared, charging at them with enough power to make the cavern shake again. Kal and Bruce dove aside in opposite directions, letting the Dolofónos pass harmlessly between them with a frustrated howl. It stopped just short of crashing into the wall before whirling around and charging back, each step of its heavy tread rumbling like thunder in the distance.

It had angled itself at Bruce, who leapt out of the way again and tried to strike with his spear in passing. He hit the thick scales along the Dolofónos’ back, making his weapon skid harmlessly off in a shower of sparks. Kal could barely hear Bruce click his tongue in frustration as he stepped back, lifting his shield to deflect the tail that was about to knock him off his feet, sending most of its momentum spiraling off towards a boulder that exploded under the assault. Kal lunged in to draw the creature’s attention off Bruce, sweeping his sword down at its legs. This too simply glanced off, but succeeded in making the Dolofónos turn away from Bruce for a moment. Kal risked one more stab at the chest, but the Dolofónos brought its arms down to block the blow. One clawed hand swiped out at Kal’s head, but he twisted out of the way and fell back to regroup.

Bruce came back in from the side, trying to slip his spear under the arm to strike its belly, but the Dolofónos growled and knocked it aside, leaving Bruce dangerously open. He threw his shield up just in time as it punched at him, but he took the attack head-on, sending him flying across the cavern to land in a crumpled heap. Kal could hear the pained rush of air leaving his lungs as he hit the ground.

As worried as he was, Kal knew he couldn’t afford to focus on Bruce. Their last few attacks all but confirmed a suspicion he harbored since the fight began. While the spiked scales on the Dolofónos’ back, shoulders, and arms were nigh impenetrable, the thinner ones on its chest and stomach didn’t afford the same protection – if they were to kill this beast, they had to land a good hit on this weakened area.

As Kal took a halfhearted swipe at its side, he realized Bruce must have drawn the same conclusion – the king was slowly rising with an intent gaze, eyes flitting across the Dolofónos’ torso in an attempt to spot openings. Kal drew back as Bruce came in to take his place, jabbing his spear at the stomach with unparalleled speed. Kal watched the very tip sink into scaled flesh before it was batted away once again. The Dolofónos staggered back with an outraged cry, thick green blood sluggishly oozing from the wound.

A small smirk curled Bruce’s lips as he readjusted his grip on his weapons. “Just like that,” he muttered as he rolled up onto the balls of his feet, ready to strike again.

When his voice disturbed the uneasy silence, the creature’s head snapped up, pupils narrowing to a slit as it bared its teeth.

“ **You will die first, Bat,** ” it sneered, dropping into a crouch. “ **I will pluck you to pieces and revel in the sound of your screams**.”

On all fours now, it charged at Bruce again, moving faster than before. The king nimbly leapt straight into the air, tucking his body behind his shield. He cleared the Dolofónos, which passed under him, and used his shield to push off its back and land on his feet behind it. It plowed through some of the stalagmites and didn’t slow until it crashed right into the wall, slamming into it with enough force to knock sizeable rocks down from the ceiling. Its head swiveled back, yellow eyes unerringly finding Bruce once again, and it roared as it prepared to charge for a third time.

“Shit,” Bruce breathed. He dove out of the way again, but Kal watched in horror as he slightly botched his landing, elbow giving out when he put his full weight on it, leaving him within arm’s reach of the Dolofónos. A clawed hand shot out and wrapped around the entirety of Bruce’s torso, pinning him to the floor with ruthless strength. The angle was all wrong for Bruce to use his spear, even if he had the energy to lift it – the grip on his body was squeezing tightly enough to make his every breath a struggle for air.

Kal could have sworn his heart stopped. As if in slow motion, he saw the Dolofónos’ free hand rise into the air, poised to take Bruce’s head off, and Kal couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. All his big talk of helping humanity’s champion, and he’d failed him.

…but no, that was wrong, wasn’t it? _Clark_ couldn’t do anything right now, but _Kal_ could. The strength of a god would be more than enough to subdue this beast.

Except there was no way he could continue this ruse if he did. If he shed his disguise now, Bruce would _know_ and there would be no taking it back and he had _no idea_ how Bruce would react and –

And none of that would matter if Bruce was dead. Swallowing the lump in his throat and ignoring the vice grip around his heart, Kal tossed aside his sword and shield and peeled away the layers of magic that masked his godhood, relishing in the power flooding his body. The cavern was filled with light as his skin began to glow once again. In the blink of an eye, he crossed the distance between himself and his target, grabbing the raised arm and wrenching it back with a sickening snap. The Dolofónos howled in pain, rearing back in an attempt to relieve the pressure on its damaged limb and consequently releasing Bruce, who drew in a deep, ragged breath.

Kal didn’t give the creature a chance to recover – his arms shot out and wrapped around the thick, scaled neck, locking in place and pulling it further back, completely exposing its belly.

“Bruce, now!” Kal grunted. Over the Dolofónos’ shoulder he could barely see the look of shock on the king’s face, but when he heard Kal’s voice Bruce didn’t hesitate – in one fluid movement, he pulled his arm out from his shield and gripped his spear with both hands, sitting up and lunging forward with a fierce battle cry. He pierced the creature in the stomach, driving his weapon up towards the chest once he’d broken skin. There was a spray of blood and a gargled screech, then a horrible, heavy silence. Kal felt the body in his arms go slack, and he carefully set it on its side to avoid crushing Bruce. His hands were trembling as he sunk down to his knees, and for the first time since this quest began, he was truly afraid to look Bruce in the eye.

A pair of sandaled feet stepped into his periphery, and he heard a disgusting squelch as Bruce’s spear was pulled out of the body. He finally found the courage to raise his head, only to realize the point of the spear was now aimed at his throat. Bruce’s expression was thunderous, filled with rage and betrayal, and Kal could swear he felt his heart break.

“Who or _what_ are you?”


	5. The Veil Has Been Lifted

Kal tried to swallow, but his mouth was bone dry. He wanted to avert his eyes, look down in shame, but Bruce’s fury demanded his attention. He took a steadying breath and spoke in a clear, honest voice, surprisingly devoid of any tremble.

“My name is Kal-El. In this realm, I am known as the god of the sun and healing. I am the son of Jor-El, the god of knowledge, and Lara Lor-Van, goddess of wisdom and strategy. My mother was the one who discovered Dru-Zod’s plan to wage war on humanity, and the one who decided she wouldn’t abandon them to their fate. She told me that she would choose the king of Gotham as the champion of the people, and that she would guide him to the Foniás.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “If that’s true, then why are you here? What was your purpose in coming to the mortal realm and disguising yourself as one of us? Were you sent by Zod to distract me from my goal?”

“No!” Kal cried out, dismayed. “No Bruce, I swear, I only want to help! My mother told me what her plan was and I thought…”

“You thought _what_?” Bruce growled.

“…I thought it was terribly hypocritical of us to be the source of the problem and offer nothing substantial for a solution,” Kal murmured. His gaze finally fell to his lap, where his hands were clasped to keep them from shaking. “Zod was one of ours. If we _truly_ wanted to stop him, shouldn’t we take action to discipline him before he could leave Krypton? Shouldn’t we intervene more directly, rather than giving humanity tools to tackle the problem themselves and patting ourselves on the back for a job well done?”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you confront Zod yourself?”

Kal couldn’t stifle a self-deprecating chuckle. “I am not one of the greater gods, Bruce, not to mention Zod is the god of _war_. If I confronted him alone, I might hold my own for awhile, but my odds of winning in a one-on-one fight are fairly low. I wanted to help, but that wouldn’t have been the best way to do it. That’s why I decided to slip away from Krypton instead. I became Clark so that I could lend you my strength and my knowledge – so that you wouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment. Kal dared to peek up through his lashes and saw the king’s expression had calmed slightly. He no longer appeared angry, though his distrust was still quite plain. His mouth opened, then shut again, and his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. Finally, so quietly Kal had to strain to catch it, he asked, “And was it part of your plan to seduce me, then? What purpose did that serve?”

Kal was helpless to prevent the crimson splash that painted his cheeks. With his godhood restored, it made the cave even brighter as his face literally glowed, compounding his embarrassment.

“I…well…that’s to say…” Kal bit his tongue in frustration, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “It was never…part of my plan, exactly…I just…” He forced himself to look up at Bruce again and meet his eyes. This was going to be the most difficult thing to admit. Everything up until now had been simple statements of fact – this was going to lay him bare in a way he’d never experienced.

Kal took a steadying breath and whispered “I met a man who was handsome and courageous and selfless – how was I supposed to do anything but fall in love with him?”

Bruce flinched and turned his head away, his helm blocking most of his expression. Kal felt his heart hammering in his chest, as though it was trying to break free. Oddly enough, his hands were steady now – there was something strangely liberating about putting all his cards on the table like this, despite the specter of anxiety that lingered. He didn’t dare breathe for fear of shattering the tense silence.

In a strange inversion, Kal found it was now the god who kneeled in supplication to the mortal – silently pleading for mercy, for forgiveness, for absolution. His chin was still tilted high so he could see Bruce’s face, baring his neck to the spear that was still poised to strike. They both knew it couldn’t hurt him, but they also knew that wasn’t really the point. The silence dragged on, but Kal remained perfectly still, ready for whatever verdict Bruce decided to pass. No matter what, he would respect Bruce’s wishes, even if it broke his heart.

Finally, a gust of air left Bruce’s body in a heavy, weary sigh, and he slowly lowered his spear. He turned to look at Kal again, but his face was an impenetrable mask – Kal couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. Bruce looked him up and down, then sheathed his spear over his back.

“I have no reason to doubt your intentions,” he admitted grudgingly. “If you wanted to stop me you had dozens of opportunities to just kill me or let me die, and if any of the myths are to be trusted you wouldn’t exactly be eager to help Zod anyways.” Bruce frowned. “It would also be foolish of me to turn down help, divine or no. I can’t deny that your support has been useful. ”

Kal perked up slightly, unable to help the traitorous leap of his heart.

“However, I refuse to be anyone’s plaything,” Bruce added. “This… _affair_ ends as of now, understood?”

Ah, Kal should’ve known it was too good to be true. He wanted to disagree, wanted to tell Bruce he was never a plaything – couldn’t he see how much Kal cherished him? Couldn’t he _feel_ the truth of Kal’s devotion in his words?

He couldn’t blame Bruce at all – it was quite a shocking turn of events for him, surely – but still, some part of him had foolishly hoped that his affections weren’t so one-sided, that perhaps Bruce loved him enough to…to what? Overlook the fact that Kal was a _god_ and had lied to him about it? Not likely.

He took a shuddering breath and offered Bruce a slow nod. “As you wish,” he said, even as he felt a hollow space forming in his chest. “Thank you for allowing me to remain at your side.”

Bruce pursed his lips and turned away, gathering up his shield and inspecting it – it was badly dented and warped from the strength of the Dolofónos’ attacks, bent in impossible ways for unheated metal. He huffed and let it drop back to the floor, apparently deeming it too damaged to be of any further use. Kal stiffly rose and collected his own weapons, fighting to keep his breathing even. By silent agreement, they searched the cavern for their prize, but each came up empty-handed. 

“I don’t see anything resembling the key piece in this cavern,” Bruce said, peering into the pool of water, “but judging from the size of that beast and the sounds we were hearing earlier, there’s likely a lot of space under the floor that’s filled with water, so it’s probably down there.”

“I can look for it,” Kal offered. “I don’t really need to breathe, and I’ve got my own light source,” he joked, vaguely gesturing to his glowing body.

Bruce quirked an eyebrow, but gestured to the pool with a gruff, “Be my guest.”

Kal quickly stripped off his armor, leaving himself only in his tunic, before diving headfirst into the water. He swam through a tunnel that went down, then back towards the center of the room above. As Bruce predicted, it opened up into a large underwater cavern, with several tunnels branching away in various directions. Thankfully, he wouldn’t need to explore them all – in the center of the grotto there was a pedestal bearing the second piece of the key. It had the same odd edges and slots as the previous piece, but the stone was a much lighter color.

He carefully grabbed it and swam back up into the cavern above, where Bruce was patiently watching the pool. Kal breached the surface and offered the piece to him, waiting until Bruce had put it away before climbing out and shaking out his hair like a dog. There was a halfhearted protest from the king, who was standing a bit too close, but Kal just grinned at him.

He wanted to push the envelope a bit further, threaten to hug Bruce and get him sopping wet, but he knew it wouldn’t be appreciated now. Instead, he channeled a bit of his power and warmed his body with the heat of the sun, quickly drying off his clothes and hair so he could don his armor again.

“Nifty,” Bruce commented. Kal smiled as he finished securing his breastplate in place.

“Occasionally you can find practical applications for these things,” he teased. Once all his gear was back in place, he focused his power again, this time pulling the mortal shroud over himself once more, dimming the cavern as his glow faded away.

“I already know who you are – why bother?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms.

Kal sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I’m still _trying_ to be low key – I don’t exactly have permission to be here, remember, so the less divine attention I draw, the better. Plus if we bump into someone on the road I don’t want to scare them.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “What do you want me to call you then? Should I still use ‘Clark,’ or is it more respectful to use ‘Kal-El’?”

Kal bit his lip. Surely it wouldn’t matter all that much what name Bruce used? Surely he could be just a _little_ bit selfish? To hear his name on Bruce’s lips…

He didn’t let himself think about it too hard as he replied, “Just Kal is fine.”

“…Kal, then,” Bruce agreed, sending a minute shiver down Kal’s spine. “We should get out of here. We might have enough daylight to find a spot to camp for the night that doesn’t smell like a pit full of rotting corpses.”

“That would be optimal,” Kal agreed, wrinkling his nose. He let Bruce lead the way as they left the cave and stepped out into the dimming light – the sun was just above the horizon, sinking behind the mountains. Instead of backtracking, they continued further along the path, intending to eventually leave the range out the other side. For today though, they only went far enough to find decent shelter just off the road, well-protected from the wind.

Kal offered to sit watch, since this area wasn’t as secure as their last campsite, and Bruce wordlessly nodded, doffing his armor and laying down with his back to Kal. The god suppressed a sigh as he leaned back against the mountainside, trying to keep his eyes on his surroundings and not on broad, tempting shoulders – he had no right to be looking at Bruce now.

He felt completely tense until he heard Bruce’s breathing even out, loosening a knot in his chest. Kal knew he should be counting himself blessed that Bruce hadn’t tried to kill him, nor was he excessively cruel in his confrontation – for how shocking the news must have been for him, Bruce handled it remarkably well.

But.

But Kal couldn’t help but mourn the circumstances – mourn the fact that he didn’t get to tell Bruce on his own terms. He couldn’t help but think that if he’d just had the chance to explain _beforehand_ , if he’d been able to tell Bruce willingly instead of having his hand forced, that it could have been better – that Bruce might have entertained the thought of staying with him, of _loving_ him.

A heavy, shuddering sigh escaped from his lips as Kal felt his whole body sag. There was no use lingering on possibilities – things unraveled the way they did, and Kal could only move forward from here. As he settled in for the night, the god looked to the sky and forced himself to center his anxious thoughts on the future.

If that future was perhaps a little more focused on his sleeping companion than their quest, Kal wasn’t about to give himself a hard time.


	6. The Trial of Heart

In the end, Kal quietly drew on his powers to stay awake through the night with no repercussions – he was sure Bruce needed the sleep more than he did. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, bathing the mountainside in warmth. Bruce stirred as the first rays hit his face, sitting up and dragging a hand down his face. He glanced at the sun, then at Kal, appearing deep in thought.

“Something wrong?” Kal asked softly, reluctant to disturb the quiet.

Bruce’s face did something strange that Kal wasn’t sure he could identify – was he embarrassed? – but eventually he asked, “Do you actually pull the sun into the sky every morning?”

Kal smiled. “I do. It’s very quiet up there. Peaceful. It never truly feels like a chore.”

“Then how is the sun still rising even though you’re down here?”

So that’s what he was driving at. Kal’s smile softened. “I only told one person what I was doing before I left – my cousin, Kara Zor-El. She helped me slip away from Mount Krypton unnoticed and agreed to take over my duties until I returned.”

“So the goddess of the moon and the hunt…is in charge of putting the sun in the sky?” Bruce asked, lips twitching like he was trying to not smile.

“Oh, I owe her an _enormous_ favor, and she’ll probably cash it in for something horrible and embarrassing, but that’s a problem for future me,” Kal assured him, feeling victorious when that pulled an amused huff from the king.

“Good to know there’s backup plans when gods decide to take last-minute vacations,” he quipped, rising and preparing himself for the day’s travel. Kal turned his head to offer him some privacy, mulling over their next course of action. There was only one trial left, deep in the swamps at the foot of the mountains. Kal knew a lot less about this one than the previous two – he only knew that it was the trial of heart, and that the being that awaited them was another human bound by a curse who had killed entire squadrons of men all on their own.

“Let’s get moving,” Bruce rumbled, startling Kal from his reverie. He got to his feet and let Bruce take the lead again, following the path down out of the mountains. He was reluctant to start a conversation – he knew Bruce would never open up again like he had the last few days, and the setback was too upsetting to even consider. However, Bruce surprised him by being the first to speak.

“I think this one is going to go a little differently than what we’ve seen so far,” he murmured, voice surprisingly gentle.

“How so?”

“What we’re approaching isn’t a monster, despite tales attempting to paint her as such,” Bruce explained. “Her name was Pamela, a priestess of Lara Lor-Van who served her in the temple at Gotham.”

“My mother?” Kal asked, startled.

Bruce looked over his shoulder with a wry grin. “Indeed. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she chose someone from Gotham to tackle this trial.” He turned away again, but continued his story, his tone somber.

“Pamela was conducting an early prayer alone in the temple one morning when she was assaulted. Nobody saw the man come or go, and unfortunately, we never caught him. He desecrated her, and by extension, the temple. If you listen to the gossiping fools, Lara Lor-Van cursed Pamela as punishment for this desecration, turning her into something not quite human and banishing her from the city.” Here, Bruce paused meaningfully.

“But that isn’t how I understand it. Pamela was just violated in the worst way, and Gotham has never given Lara reason to be vengeful – she didn’t curse her priestess, she offered her protection. She gave her a form that would drive men away, and as well as the power to kill anyone who would dare touch her again. Then she led Pamela to a place that was isolated and difficult to reach, offering her a quiet, undisturbed life. It was the greatest gift a goddess could bestow. In return, she asked Pamela to guard the last piece of the key – a small favor in the face of such a blessing.”

“Amazing,” Kal breathed. “I don’t recall her ever mentioning this.”

“Probably for Pamela’s sake,” Bruce agreed. “This is a lot of track, but what I’m getting at here is I don’t think this is a trial we’re supposed to fight our way out of. Unlike the last two guards, Pamela is still intelligent, and human in all the ways that count. We should be able to have a civilized discussion with her, assuming she doesn’t try to kill us on sight.” He paused again.

“More importantly, I don’t _want_ to fight her. As her king, I failed her, and she deserves the peace of mind she’s been given. I won’t be the one to take that from her.”

Kal smothered a frustrated huff. How could Bruce say things like this and expect Kal to _not_ fall in love? He had to take a moment to curb his emotions before he could safely respond in a regular, friendly manner.

“I’m not one to look for fights where they needn’t be,” he agreed, “If you think you can get Pamela to talk, then I’ll do what I can to help make that happen.”

Bruce didn’t respond, so Kal figured that was the end of the conversation, but then, so softly he almost didn’t hear, there was a “Thank you, Kal,” breathed into the wind. He said nothing, letting Bruce think there was a chance he’d missed it, but there was a smile pulling at his lips that remained for the rest of the hike.

They reached the swamps in short order – their footsteps were already making very wet sounds, even as they approached the towering treeline. The sun was high in the sky, but the foliage above was so thick that it only broke through in scattered shafts. The pair picked their way through the quagmire, trying to stay on the main path where the footing was most reliable, but occasionally driven off where the path got too thin or just completely disappeared. On one occasion, Kal misstepped and sank knee deep into a particularly pungent pond, one foot on the path and one swallowed in the muck. His disgusted face must have been quite the sight, because he managed to draw a proper laugh out of Bruce before the king offered a hand to help him back out. Kal guiltily relished the warmth of his palm for the brief moment it took for Bruce to haul him up onto the path.

The light grew dimmer the further in they went, but there was still no sign of Pamela. Kal fervently hoped they could settle this before sundown and avoid having to sleep in the trees – he’d done it before and it wasn’t an experience he cared to repeat. He was just beginning to properly despair the possibility when Bruce abruptly stopped, arm shooting out to keep Kal from advancing.

“She’s close,” he whispered harshly. “Keep your wits about you.”

Kal nodded, eyes already scanning up and down the trees for any sign of movement. They continued advancing, but at a much slower pace, stepping over gnarled tree roots and listening to the muted sounds of the wildlife. Kal stumbled slightly and looked down, thinking perhaps he’d tripped on one of the roots, but his stomach swooped when he realized the root was _wrapped around his ankle_.

He barely managed a startled yelp before he was unceremoniously thrown into the air, too disoriented to tell which way was up. The glade was filled with wooden groans and Kal felt more roots wrapping around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides with startling strength. He thought he might have heard Bruce yell his name, but he could barely hear over the sound of his frantic heartbeat. More roots immobilized his legs, essentially cocooning him, but he was held still long enough to realize he was now upside-down, hanging above the ground at a dizzying height.

He heard struggling and managed to find Bruce, who was being swept off his feet by thick vines. They lifted him off the ground and pulled at his limbs until he was splayed like a starfish, also hanging upside-down but much closer to the ground. His helm fell from his head and landed without ceremony on the path below.

Kal’s arms twitched in their confines, ready to shed his mortal disguise and break them both out, but Bruce managed to catch his eye and shot him a significant look. _Not yet_ , it said. _She hasn’t tried to kill us yet – we can still try to talk._

Kal wasn’t happy, but he knew this was important. He had to trust Bruce’s judgement. He relaxed as much as he was able, surprised when the roots eased up slightly as he did. A voice finally addressed them, though Kal couldn’t tell where it came from.

“Tell me why you are trespassing in my home, or I’ll kill you on the spot,” it demanded, echoing through the glade.

“We aren’t here to harm you, Pamela,” Bruce said in a loud, clear voice. “We only need the key that you guard so we can prevent a devastating cataclysm.”

There was a smooth chuckle, but Pamela revealed herself, climbing out from a space at the foot of one of the larger trees. She was still person-shaped, unlike the last two guardians, but her skin was a bright shade of green, and there appeared to be thin vines growing from her body in certain places. A shock of red hair tumbled down her back, standing out like a flame in the night. Her lips curled into a sardonic grin as she approached Bruce, gesturing with her hand to make the vines holding him come closer so she could meet his eyes without looking up.

“There’s plenty of people who want the key,” she purred, reaching out to trace a line from his jaw to his temple. “But why does the king of Gotham himself deign to climb down from his throne and lay claim to it?”

Bruce didn’t flinch at the attention. “Dru-Zod will soon declare war upon all of humanity, and will likely wipe them out unless there’s a way to level the playing field. Lara Lor-Van called upon me to find the Foniás and lead the fight against him. I need your piece of the key to enter the temple where it rests.”

At the mention of his mother’s name, the briefest look of hesitation crossed Pamela’s face, but she schooled her expression in an instant. “What do I care for the fate of humanity? If Zod destroys every last one of them, so much the better. My plants and I will flourish in their absence.”

“You have no assurance that he’ll leave you alone. Who’s to say he won’t hunt down every last mortal in his thirst for conquest?” When she didn’t react, Bruce softly added, “You won’t be able to guarantee her safety, Pamela. She’ll be in as much danger as anyone else.”

At this she flinched back, her face caught between rage and shock. “I would do _anything_ to protect her, how _dare_ you–”

“I’m not saying you wouldn’t, Pamela, I’m saying you _can’t_ ,” Bruce insisted. “You are far more powerful than the average mortal, but you still can’t stand up to a god on your own. Nobody can.”

Kal frowned. Who were they talking about? Bruce said Pamela came out here to live on her own, right?

“What would you know of my power, _your highness?_ ” she hissed with a mocking twist to his title. “Lara did more for me than you ever could, and I–”

“Pam, it’s okay.”

The new voice made Kal and Pamela both jump, though Bruce remained unmoving. Kal watched as another woman slowly emerged from the same tree as Pamela had, with fair skin and blonde hair and a soft smile. Pamela was at her side in an instant, gently taking her hands and whispering insistently.

"Harley, you don’t need to worry about this, I’ll get rid of them soon. I won’t let him take you back.”

The woman shook her head sadly and squeezed Pamela’s hands. “Pam, he’s ‘bout the whole reason I even got to meet you.”

Pamela appeared just as shocked as Kal was. She didn’t protest when the woman stepped around her and approached Bruce, whose expression had softened slightly.

“Your highness,” she said with a short bow.

“Harleen,” he replied with a nod. She smiled, but it wavered and her gaze fell to her feet. For a moment, the glade was silent, as though all the world was holding its breath. Kal couldn’t look away. Pamela didn’t move. Bruce’s face gave away nothing.

Finally, Harleen fisted her hands in the material of her clothes and whispered, “I never got to thank you for lettin’ me go. Or apologize for what I did to ya.”

“You don’t need to do either. He hurt you as much as anyone else, and you weren’t involved that night,” Bruce said softly, his eyes glazing over slightly as though his mind was somewhere far away.

“Does that _mattah_?” she wailed. “I was Mistah J’s right hand, his second in command, and he…your lil’ boy…” She finally looked up, tears welling in her eyes. “And despite that, when I was tryin’ to get off the island, you caught me, but then you just _let me leave_. Just like that.”

Kal’s head was spinning, and he felt a little queasy. He didn’t quite have all the pieces here, but if he was on the right track, if she was talking about Jason and the night he died…

Bruce’s tone was firm when he responded. “Harleen, that man was ruthlessly manipulating you with promises of a love that never existed. You chose poorly when you first decided to throw your lot in with him, but you weren’t entirely responsible for the following spiral. You realized you needed to stop, knew the authorities wouldn’t likely be kind to you, and tried to send yourself into a self-imposed exile. You wanted to change for the better, and I wasn’t going to be the one to stand in your way.” He took a deep breath and his eyes glazed again.

“You weren’t the one caving my son’s head in with a club, so there was nothing I had to forgive you for.”

Her lips trembled, but she slowly nodded. Bruce’s eyelids fluttered and the mist cleared again. He glanced at Pamela before looking back at Harleen. “I was keeping tabs on your whereabouts and tracked you here, so I figured you’d be safe.”

She managed a small smile, casting a soft glance at Pamela. “Yeah, Pam’s been takin’ good care of me.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Harleen. Truly.”

Kal was completely flabbergasted. Every time he thought he’d seen the greatest extent of Bruce’s selflessness and generosity, the man found a way to push that boundary even further. Harleen had been working with the man that killed Jason, but Bruce wasn’t holding it against her. He treated her like _she_ was a victim in the whole ordeal, to the extent that he let her leave the island with no repercussions. He’d cared enough to make sure she was safe even after she left, and remembered Pamela well enough to know that Harleen would be safe with her.

Pamela appeared equally shocked. She slowly stepped forward to stand at Harleen’s side, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist and eyeing Bruce with mild suspicion. “So you knew where we both were this whole time and just…didn’t do anything about it?”

“I know something about trying to rebuild your life after a devastating tragedy,” Bruce reminded her, “And I believe people deserve second chances if they’re willing to fix what’s wrong.” Kal probably imagined Bruce’s eyes flicking over to him for half a second, but he really hoped he didn’t.

“That’s why I need that key, Pamela,” Bruce continued. “I want you two to be able to heal. Clearly you’re good for each other, and you deserve to have that time together, but if Zod comes down and razes the earth, neither of you will be safe. If you really love her, you’d do it to keep her safe, right?”

Pamela laughed, but the sweet sound was tinged with an edge of cruelty. “And what would _you_ know of love? You’ve been the bachelor king since you took the throne. I would die before I let anyone hurt Harley, even a god.”

Bruce’s face was somber, but there was an unusually earnest glint in his eyes. “You’re right. I don’t know very much about love, because I never thought I was someone who deserved to experience it. I thought it would only serve as punishment for whoever threw their lot in with me.” He paused to mull over his words before slowly continuing.

“When I first agreed to this quest, I was willing to do whatever it took to take down Zod and protect this world. The lives of my family, my people, of _all humanity_ were at stake, and it seemed likely I wouldn’t survive the ordeal. And I was okay with that. I’d made my peace with the inevitability of my death, because it seemed an acceptable exchange for the safety of the world.” He paused, and this time he looked up at Kal and didn’t look away. The god held his breath in anticipation, hardly daring to hope what Bruce’s next words would be.

“But then I met someone who was bright and kind and handsome, and I realized that I didn’t _want_ it to end. I was reluctant to give up my life for this cause because I treasured the time I spent with him.” His gaze fell back down to Pamela. “I may not know love well, but what little I’ve learned tells me that any idiot can die for love. Laying down your life is easy, but it takes true strength to _live_ for the one you love – to persevere so that you can face an uncertain future together.”

Kal didn’t think it would be terribly comfortable to cry while upside down, but still found himself blinking away tears as his heart seemed to swell in his chest. There were thousands of things he wanted to say, but in their competition to pass between his lips they only got stuck in his throat. Bruce’s gaze flickered up to him again for just a moment, and for that brief second, Kal felt whole and beautiful and _loved_.

Harleen smiled widely, gently nudging Pamela with her elbow, who in return rolled her eyes, though the gesture was tempered by her fond smile.

“Then I guess humanity is in good hands, your highness,” she said, sincerely this time. She gestured with her free hand and the vines set Bruce to rights, gently placing him on solid ground with his helm at his feet. Kal felt himself spinning again as the roots binding him did the same, setting him close enough to Bruce that their arms brushed against each other. The king actually leaned slightly into the point of contact and Kal’s heart soared.

Harleen had plucked Bruce’s helmet from the ground and offered it to him with a smile. He gingerly took it from her hands and settled it over his brow once again, automatically holding himself straighter under its weight. Pamela came up behind her and flicked a wrist, bringing a couple of thin vines up from the water which held a familiar piece of stone. It was covered in moss in a couple places, but not in any of the slots where it would be in the way. The vines extended until they presented the piece to Bruce, who accepted it and put it away with the others.

“Thank you Pamela,” he said quietly. “I am in your debt.”

“Wait just a moment,” she said, turning back to the tree she originally emerged from. The opening at the base widened slightly and a root reached in, emerging with what appeared to be a shield. It brought the armor to Pamela, who took it into her hands and looked it over for a moment before presenting it to Bruce.

“This is the Shield of Zatara. Any magic spell that hits it will be reflected back at the caster.” she smiled at Bruce’s apparent confusion. “If you’re determined to live for the sake of the one you love, then this should go a long way to you reaching that goal.”

Bruce blinked, but he slowly reached out to accept it with a solemn air. He looked her in the eye as they both had their hands on it.

“Thank you, Pamela,” he said again, placing a greater weight on the words this time. She nodded and relinquished her grip, waiting for Bruce to inspect it and sling it over his back before she spoke.

“I’ll have the trees guide you to the quickest path out. The temple is nearly a full day’s travel from here, but the shortcut should shave some time off that.” She glanced over at Kal, who squared his shoulders at the scrutiny, but flinched when her smile curved mischievously. “Seems like you two need a chance to clear the air, at any rate.”

Kal knew he was blushing, but he was as helpless to stop it as the smile that pulled at his lips. “Thank you both for your assistance and understanding,” he said, bowing slightly at the waist. “Lara Lor-Van’s blessings upon you both.”

Harleen leaned against Pamela’s arm, sliding a hand into hers and gently twining their fingers together. Pamela returned the gesture without hesitation.

“Good luck, your highness,” Harleen chirped with an earnest smile. “If anybody could pull off something as crazy as fighting a god, it’d be you.”

Kal watched as Bruce’s lips quirked into a self-deprecating grin. “Your vote of confidence is gratifying,” he said, tone deadpan in an attempt to hide the kernel of warmth in it. His smile dropped away as his eyes flitted between the two women. “Take care, you two.”

With an answering nod and a wave of her hand, Pamela summoned another swarm of tree limbs, which interlocked to form a narrow bridge that led away from the main path and cut over the deeper parts of the swamp. After receiving instructions to follow the bridge to its end, Kal and Bruce finally parted ways with the swamp’s residents.

As Kal followed Bruce along the new path, he let himself look back over his shoulder once. Pamela and Harleen were no longer watching them, but wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying gently to a song Kal couldn’t hear.

Kal turned away with a smile on his lips and peace enveloping him like a cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the swamp lesbians live in peace.


	7. The Air is Cleared

Both men were silent for a time, focusing on keeping their footing on the damp roots, but Kal’s mind was whirring with things he wanted to say. Should he ask about what Bruce said? Should he start by apologizing again? All that talk of second chances and _love_ made that spark of hope Kal had tried to smother burst to life again.

His thoughts ran in circles as the trees thinned out, giving Kal his first proper glimpse of sunlight in hours. He’d almost expected it to be night, but by the position of the sun it wasn’t quite evening yet – they’d be able to travel for a few more hours at least. They stepped down off their makeshift path and onto solid ground, watching as the roots pulled apart and sunk back into the murky waters. For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke, tension thick in the air as they both avoided eye contact. Kal was trying to give Bruce the chance to talk if he wanted, but this waiting was killing him. He drew a breath, ready to risk a question, when Bruce abruptly cut him off.

“Kal, I didn’t mean to…” he sighed heavily, staring at the ground between them. “What little experience I have with love has not been pleasant. The few dalliances I allowed myself ended poorly because the other party always had ulterior motives, and I was…I was afraid to risk hurting myself again.”

He lifted his eyes to meet Kal’s, and the god gasped softly at the resolve burning in them. “But my time with you felt so _different_. I’d never connected with someone so quickly, and it felt so _natural_ , and for once I was trying to ignore my doubts and just let myself enjoy it – let myself enjoy _you_.” His gaze dropped again when he added, “I suppose that’s why I took your confessions so poorly.”

Kal swallowed harshly, working his throat in an attempt to stifle his words. Bruce clearly had more to say, and Kal wasn’t going to stop him now.

“I know – I _knew_ – why you wouldn’t have said something sooner. You explained yourself with perfect clarity. I just took it too personally and that clouded my judgement. I think…” he huffed in frustration, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “No, I _know_ I took it personally because I was already half in love with you and trying to deny it. You’d already seemed too good to be true, and that just felt like the final nail in the coffin.”

He looked back up, and though his jaw was tense, there was something in his relaxing stance that took Kal’s breath away.

“I can’t even fathom the logistics of a long term…anything with someone who’s immortal…but that can be a problem for a future version of me,” Bruce asserted. “Because right now I just want _you_ , in whatever capacity I’m allowed. And if you’d really settle for an aging, paranoid mortal, then you have _me_ as well.”

Kal desperately wished he could say something witty, something heartfelt, but all he could make himself do was stumble forward and sweep Bruce into his arms and against his mouth. He met no resistance as the king relaxed into his hold, resting his hands on Kal’s biceps and molding their lips together with a quiet sigh. Fire was burning in Kal’s veins, but it was different from the blazing passion he’d felt before – now it was more of a constant simmer, a stoked flame that would last the night and keep you warm without burning out of control. A familiar warmth that made him think of home.

He tightened his grip around Bruce’s waist and spine and carefully dipped the king back, deepening their kiss and drowning in the sensation. Strong arms came up to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him even closer until he felt his heart beating in Bruce’s chest. There was a pause as Bruce tipped his head to the side, drawing deep, ragged breaths, but Kal couldn’t stand to pull away – he pressed his lips along Bruce’s jaw, left hungry, openmouthed kisses along his neck, sucked marks into his skin at the edge of his armor. His eyes fluttered open as he felt a vibration under his lips and heard a rumbling chuckle.

“Hmm?” he idly hummed, running his mouth back up Bruce’s neck to mouth at a spot under his ear.

“If you’re still trying to be incognito, I think you need to work on your control,” Bruce noted.

Kal made a confused noise, but pulled away to look at Bruce’s face. He was slightly flushed, kiss-swollen lips curled into a smirk, and he was practically _glowing_ …

Wait, where was all that light coming from?

Kal glanced at himself and was absolutely mortified to see that it was in fact _him_ who was actually glowing – at some point during the course of his ardor, his disguise had fallen away. He was only holding Bruce with one arm now, as though the warrior weighed nothing, while his other hand had begun wandering down to grasp at Bruce’s thigh and slide up under his tunic. He hastily righted them both, setting Bruce firmly on his feet and willing away the blush that was making him glow obnoxiously brighter. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on pulling the veil over himself again, but his concentration was easily broken by a rough, warm hand cupping his face.

Helpless to do anything else, he leaned into the touch and opened his eyes again. Bruce was rubbing his thumb under Kal’s eye, with a smile so tender that Kal was positively melting at the sight.

“How did you manage to actually sleep with me without issue, but now we share a kiss and your disguise comes apart at the seams?” Bruce asked, eyes dancing with mirth.

Kal sputtered but insisted, “That was different! You were just unbearably attractive then, I wasn’t…” he trailed off, abruptly bashful despite having said it before.

Bruce’s brow quirked, pushing Kal to finish his thought.

“I wasn’t in _love_ with you as well. Or I wasn’t aware of it, at least.”

Bruce looked startled, even though this wasn’t new information. Kal brought a hand up to rest over the one still holding his face.

“I _do_ want you Bruce, for however long you’ll have me – I’ll never leave your side unless you wish it. Even when you’ve hung up your spear and passed your throne to Richard and spoiled your grandchildren, I’ll still be there, still loving you and everything that you are.”

Bruce blinked suspiciously quickly, but turned his head away before Kal could see anything, muttering, “Never thought I’d see the day that I had a _god_ wrapped around my little finger.”

Kal smiled and turned his head to press a lingering kiss to Bruce’s palm. “I could think of no man worthier of the honor.”

Bruce glanced back, disbelief betrayed in his features, but he said nothing as he gently extracted his hand.

“Alright, we’re burning daylight here. Pull yourself together and let’s get moving,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kal laughed brightly, but did as he was told, concealing his power once more and following when Bruce resumed their previous pace. They covered a lot of ground in their remaining time, stopping for the night at an appropriate hour but lacking in sleep as they woke up tangled together once again. The remainder of their journey was across wide, open plains that remained relatively flat, so they could afford to maintain a brisk pace while they discussed the last challenge that awaited them.

“I understand that the temple is down in the Valley of the Forgotten, and we’ll have to assemble the key to get in, but I’m afraid your mother was a little sparse on details when it came to the temple interior,” Bruce explained with a frown. “Is this going to be another trial? Is there another guardian? Or have I overcome enough bullshit to have an easy time of it for once?”

Kal couldn’t help his amused snort, catching a small smile on Bruce’s face that was quickly smothered.

“Unfortunately, there is one last guardian. The Foniás is a very powerful weapon, after all – can’t risk it ending up in unworthy hands,” Kal clarified. “Even the greater gods don’t know much about it, because this thing is older than even they are – a remnant of the titans’ rule. Some say it’s a fallen god, twisted in form to suit the needs of the titans. Others say it’s an unholy abomination handcrafted by the titans using their lifeblood. Either way, any name it may have once had has been lost to time – now we simply call it ‘Doomsday.’”

Bruce’s brows pinched low over the bridge of his nose. “How did the gods manage to get some beast of the titans’ to guard their relic?”

“Well, the gods didn’t make the Foniás. It was originally crafted by the titans to strike the gods down.” Kal paused, gaze flitting nervously to the ground at his feet. “That’s why the titans made its guardian a monster with the power of a god – why the gods locked the temple up and split the key. There’s more than one threat to their rule in there.”

Both of Bruce’s eyebrows jumped up until they almost disappeared under his helm. “Well…I suppose if the titans had a hand in the monster’s creation it stands to reason its strength would be unparalleled,” he concluded. “But if it’s that strong, how are we going to…”

Kal watched as Bruce’s mouth snapped shut and his lips twisted into a grim line.

“The Foniás,” he grumbled. “The only way to kill it is to use the weapon against it.”

Kal nodded. “Yes. Once we’re in, it will be a race to find the godslayer before Doomsday can find us. Your weapons will be useless, and I’ll only be able to keep it at bay. In theory, if we’re swift enough, we can grab the Foniás and get out without having to contend with Doomsday at all, but...”

“The way things have been going so far, I doubt we’ll be that lucky,” Bruce finished with a frustrated glare. It softened into something resembling concern as he looked up at Kal, who tilted his head in confusion.

“If it’s that strong…then it’s likely that this thing can harm you as well, right?” he asked quietly, as though afraid speaking it aloud would give it power.

“I…hadn’t thought of it that way,” Kal admitted, biting his lip in thought. “If the greater gods were so worried about Doomsday, that would be a reasonable assumption.”

“We’ll have to be more careful then,” Bruce stressed. “The Dolofónos ultimately couldn’t have so much as scratched you, even if I wasn’t aware of it, so if we botched that fight _you’d_ at least get to walk away.” He looked vaguely haunted as he added, “We won’t have that luxury this time.”

Kal reached out and took one of Bruce’s hands in his own, smiling when the king let him thread their fingers together and returned his gentle squeeze. “I knew what risks I would be taking when I first decided to join you, Bruce. I’m not leaving you to face Doomsday alone. Everything we’ve encountered so far could have killed _you_ and you didn’t turn back, right?”

He thought Bruce grumbled something like “that’s _obviously_ different,” but the king didn’t raise any further objections, though he did squeeze Kal’s hand a little tighter.

“Together?” Kal asked with a smile.

Bruce still looked pained, but he offered a determined nod.

“Together.”


	8. The Legend Begins

They spent the rest of the trip talking about more inconsequential things – mostly Kal sharing stories about his family to a bemused Bruce – but they fell silent when they crested a low hill and saw the valley sprawled before them. A switchback path led down the steep slope at their feet, down to the deepest part of the valley, where an ancient, weather-beaten temple innocuously lay. There was little foliage to impede their progress – the few remaining trees were dried-out husks, the ground too sandy and dry to support any grass or bushes. Without a word, they made their way down and approached their final destination, coming to a stop at a door that easily dwarfed them.

Kal ran his fingers over it, following the intricate pattern made up of three kinds of stone until he found a depression in the middle. Bruce had already pulled out the first two pieces of the key, inspecting the edges and tentatively bringing them together to see how they’d fit. Kal watched as he turned the pieces over, brow furrowed until there was a quiet scraping noise as the two slid into place, firmly locking together. He quickly retrieved the third and made short work of adding it to the puzzle, leaving him with an irregularly-shaped piece of stone.

Kal indicated the depression he’d found, and Bruce stood next to him, turning the key until the colors of the rocks in his hand matched the colors in the door. He carefully pushed the slab in, adjusting it slightly when it didn’t immediately fit, and nudged it in until it could go no further. When it stopped, he splayed a hand over it and gripped with his fingertips, warily turning it to the left. There was a grinding sound and a small cloud of dust, but the mechanism moved, slowly spinning until it was fully upside-down. For a moment, the valley was silent. Kal’s gaze flickered anxiously over the door, looking for any sign of movement. With an ominous groan, rock began shifting and sliding out of the way, pulling back from the center in a regimented series until the way forward was completely clear.

In the interest of moving quietly, neither drew their weapons. Bruce only made it half a step over the threshold before Kal made an impulsive decision, reaching out to grip his elbow and hold him still. Bruce made a muffled sound of surprise when Kal kissed him, but it didn’t stop him from returning the gesture. Reluctantly, Kal pulled away after a few moments, flushing slightly at Bruce’s raised brow.

“For luck,” he whispered, avoiding eye contact. Bruce’s brow only arched further until Kal said, “I wanted to do it last time – before the Dolofónos. I didn’t want to miss my chance this time.”

Bruce huffed in amusement, but obligingly leaned in to press a quick kiss to the corner of Kal’s mouth. “For luck,” he agreed with a small smile.

Kal was probably too excited to be going up against one of the few things in the world that could kill him, but as he released Bruce’s arm and followed him into the bowels of the temple, he couldn’t help but feel more optimistic about this than any of the trials so far.

Their luck held out for the better part of 20 minutes – there was only one corridor to follow, lined with crumbling statues, and there was no sound except for their footsteps as they advanced. They eventually hit a fork in the path, splitting to either side with no indication of which way they should go. They peered down each hall, but when no answer was immediately obvious, Bruce whispered, “I’ll go to the left, you go to the right. We can meet back here when we reach the end – one of us should have the Foniás by then.”

“And one will probably run into Doomsday by themselves,” Kal hissed.

“Well, if you do, run back until we meet up again,” Bruce shot back. “We can’t waste time. I’ll see you shortly.”

He didn’t wait for Kal to respond before he turned down the corridor, rounding a corner and disappearing from view. Kal sighed, but went to the right and continued on. The walls here were bare, devoid of any decoration or embellishment, but absolutely _caked_ in dust. Kal tried to avoid breathing too deeply as he pressed on, hand hovering by the hilt of his sword all the while. He stopped when he saw the corridor open up, ending in a spacious chamber. Holding his breath, he slowly crept into the room, every sense on high alert as his gaze swept along the perimeter.

Despite its size, the room was almost barren – several tall, imposing columns held up the roof, more decrepit statues lined the walls, and a small altar sat in the bottom of a shallow pit carved out in the middle of the floor. Sunlight filtered in through holes in the ceiling, illuminating portions of the room and throwing the rest into deep shadow. Kal couldn’t see anything resembling a weapon, but decided it would be wise to be thorough and give the room a sweep. He silently stepped further into the room, approaching the altar with trepidation. When he was within arm’s reach, he bent to examine the pedestal, running his fingers along the stone in search of another hidden mechanism. His breathing had grown labored from the tension, and he forced himself to relax, holding his breath for a moment to center himself.

But the heavy breathing continued.

Kal flinched back towards the door, but he was too late – a colossal mass pulled away from the wall in the back corner of the room, surging towards him in a wave of shadow.

Kal abandoned his mortal guise, drawing on his inhuman speed as he dove out of the way, narrowly missing the charge and rolling across the floor. His surroundings brightened as the glow of his skin suffused the room, offering Kal an eyeful of the temple’s watchdog.

If the Dolofónos was large, Doomsday was _enormous._ It came just short of the ceiling, with enough bulk to easily dwarf the reptilian beast. Though it vaguely resembled a human, the skin was a sallow grey, and bony protrusions grew from its shoulders and right arm. Beady eyes zeroed in on Kal and it roared loud enough to shake the room, lumbering towards him with arms raised to smash down on his head.

He threw his own up and caught the attack before it could connect, taking the brunt of the force and cracking the stone floor under his feet. With a grunt, he grabbed hold of its hands and pulled as hard as he could, throwing it into the far wall with a resounding crash and taking out two columns.

Kal immediately spun on his heel and dashed back into the corridor, feet barely touching the floor as he sprinted down the hall. He briefly toyed with the idea of keeping Doomsday occupied back in the chamber, giving Bruce more time to find the godslayer without putting him in danger, but Kal knew he’d only be able to hold out for so long – he needed to bring this thing to the Foniás as quickly as possible.

He grabbed his sword and shield as he turned a corner, glancing back over his shoulder to see Doomsday charging after him, smashing up the corridor in its wake. Its eyes locked onto him once more and began to glow with a searing heat. Kal cursed quietly and threw up his shield just in time to block a beam of magic. The force of it was enough to push him down the hall, sliding across the floor as though it were made of ice. He noted with alarm that his shield was heating as though it were in a forge – the metal began to glow where it was taking the attack and singing his skin at every point of contact.

Without hesitating, he angled the shield to send the beam skittering off and dove in the opposite direction, around another turn in the path and out of eyeshot. Doomsday roared again, encouraging Kal to resume his hasty retreat. He _really_ hoped Bruce already had the godslayer, or this was going to get very hairy.

He reached the original fork in the path and raced down the path Bruce had taken, coming around a few more corners before he was quickly spit out into another large chamber. A frantic scan revealed neither Bruce nor the Foniás, but he had no time to despair before he was rejoined by the temple’s watchdog. Doomsday came crashing through the opening, taking out part of the doorframe with its shoulder. Kal took a trembling breath and squared his stance.

“Very well Doomsday. Let’s test your mettle,” he mumbled, tightening his grip on his sword.

With another roar, the monster threw itself at Kal, sweeping out with its spiked arm. He deflected the blow with his shield and lunged in, ducking between its legs and lashing out at the nearest calf with his sword. He didn’t break skin, but the point of contact glowed and he successfully swept the leg out from under Doomsday’s bulk, toppling it to the ground with another furious cry. Its arms flailed for a moment, indiscriminately smashing whatever was in reach as it tried to pull itself back up. Kal leapt into the air and tucked himself behind his shield, dropping his full weight down on Doomsday’s stomach and driving it into the floor. It fell silent as it tried to pull air back into its lungs, lashing out with a brutal swing and catching Kal in the torso. He flew across the room, smashing through a statue and landing on his back in the opposite wall.

With a wheeze, he slowly slipped to the floor, his whole body aching as he tried to pull himself to his feet. His shield had fallen off along the way, now laying on the floor halfway across the room. He looked from it to Doomsday, trying to gauge if he could grab it without putting himself in range, when he saw its eyes begin to glow again.

_There’s not enough time there’s no **cover –**_

Kal flinched as the beams sparked to life, hoping he could survive the blow, when a shadow slipped past him and in front of the attack. A cry of alarm died in his throat as Doomsday roared and staggered back, away from a familiar, bat-crowned figure.

“Try it again,” Bruce growled, hefting his shield higher and planting his feet. Whether in response to his challenge or from sheer outrage, the monster’s eyes glowed again and swiftly unleashed their magic. Kal watched in awe as Bruce took the attack head-on, blocking it with his shield for a moment before throwing his weight behind it. The beams flashed again, reflecting off his shield and straight back at Doomsday, knocking it off its feet entirely with a cry of pain.

There was a brief moment of respite as it tried to regain its footing. Kal leapt to his feet and gave Bruce a quick once-over for injuries as he breathlessly said, “Well, looks like Pamela’s gift is serving you well.”

Bruce’s responding grin was bordering on savage delight. “Works like a charm,” he agreed.

“Did you find the…” Kal began to ask, but then he finally saw the weapon Bruce held in his other hand. Not the battered, sturdy spear that had been serving him throughout their journey, but one with a gleaming shaft untouched by time. The spearhead was made not of metal, but carved stone that glowed a sickly green. Even though it wasn’t pointed at him, Kal felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Yeah,” Bruce grunted. “I found it.”

Their conversation halted as Doomsday rose from the floor, shaking itself off with a low growl. It only had eyes for Bruce now, gaze locked on the weapon in his hand.

“Let’s see if we can’t make a good thing work twice,” Bruce murmured quickly without taking his eyes off their opponent. “Just like with the Dolofónos – I’ll draw some of its attacks, you try to pin it, and I’ll finish it off once you’ve got a good grip.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” Kal replied with no hesitation. He tossed his sword aside and rolled his shoulders, readying himself to move as Doomsday staggered across the room, raising its spiked arm high into the air.

Just as it came down, Kal and Bruce leapt away in opposite directions, letting the limb harmlessly crash into the floor. Kal watched as Bruce struck at it with the Foniás, slicing through flesh like so much butter. Doomsday _howled_ and reared back, lurching away from the king on unsteady feet. Kal took the opening and jumped up at the monster’s exposed throat, driving his shoulder into the soft tissue under its chin and flipping around to drive a knee into the base of its neck, dropping it heavily to its knees. He kept an arm wrapped around its neck and reached out with the other to try and grab its spiked arm, figuring Bruce had a better chance of surviving an errant blow from the other arm.

He just got his fingers around the top of the limb when it slipped out of his grip, swinging the arm back over its shoulder and smashing it into Kal’s back. Unneeded air rushed out of his lungs as several bone protrusions buried themselves in his flesh, the flare of pain blurring his vision momentarily. Undaunted, Kal reached back with his free arm and locked it around the limb, pinning it to his back.

“Bruce!” he gasped, clenching his arms and throwing himself back to expose Doomsday’s chest. The monster flinched once, attempting to right itself, but Kal watched with grim satisfaction as a flash of green arced through the air. Bruce had clambered up the nearest pile of rubble and launched himself, bringing the godslayer down over his head and burying it in Doomsday’s chest with a thunderous battle cry.

There was a sound like a sharp crack, and fissures broke out across the monster’s skin, leaking a bright green light. It howled in pain and bucked again, desperately trying to throw Bruce and Kal off. The god grit his teeth and held tight, and Bruce adjusted his grip on the spear, grabbing with both hands and planting his feet on Doomsday’s chest in a deep lunge. With another fierce cry, he drove the spear deeper in, dropping to one knee from the follow-through. Doomsday’s roar reached a fever pitch as its whole body writhed, shuddering once, then twice, then one last time as its body slumped to the side.

Bruce pushed away, neatly rolling across the floor and out of the way, while Kal remained too tangled in the corpse to escape. He fell to the floor with it, then slowly released his grip and let himself sag to the ground. His ears were still ringing with the echoes of furious roars, his entire body sore and hurting, and he was perfectly content to not move again for at least a century.

“-al. Kal!”

A voice managed to pierce the tired fog swallowing Kal’s mind. He opened his eyes (when had they closed?) and vaguely saw someone standing over him.

“-going to hurt. Don’t move.”

He couldn’t even consider formulating a response before the pain in his back flared to life, drawing a protracted groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He flopped to the floor again, this time on his back instead of his side, and felt a pair of warm hands slide under his head and shoulders, moving him until he was pillowed on something equally warm. Gentle fingers brushed his hair away from his face and something smooth and dry pressed against his forehead for a moment. He forced himself to open his eyes again, blinking until his vision cleared.

All he could see was Bruce, face smeared with dirt and sweat and brow pinched with concern.

“Kal, are you going to be alright? That was…that _should_ have killed you. Would definitely have killed me. But you–”

“Sssshhhhh,” Kal whispered, finding the strength to raise an arm and pat inelegantly at Bruce’s face. “I’ll be fine. It’ll heal. Takes a bit, but it’ll heal.”

Even as he spoke, he could feel his flesh knitting itself back together, slowly halting his bleeding and making it easier to focus. Bruce didn’t look terribly reassured, but when Kal patted his cheek again he relented, turning his head to kiss Kal’s palm.

“I’ll lecture you about your recklessness when you can sit up on your own,” he said with a teasing grin. Kal grumbled, but he couldn’t exactly dispute it. He wiggled a bit to make himself more comfortable, realizing with a surge of heat that he was propped on Bruce’s thighs.

“I _will_ say,” Bruce continued, “that you were _incredible_ to watch, and I am immensely grateful I had your help. You’ve been a superb partner in combat all this time, but seeing you tap into your true strength and fight without holding anything back was really something else.”

Kal bit his lip in an attempt to dampen his smile, but he knew it wasn’t doing much. “High praise, coming from Lara Lor-Van’s chosen champion, savior of all humankind, who slew every monster that dared to cross his path.”

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head. “I’m no savior yet,” he said. A smile still tugged at his lips, but his eyes were somewhere far away. “This was just the first leg of the race.”

Kal sobered up a bit at the reminder. Bruce wasn’t wrong – retrieving the Foniás was only the beginning of what would be required of him in the coming days. Now that he had the means to kill a god, he had to rally the armies of the mortal realm, unite them under his banner, and prepare them for the coming storm. It was a monumental undertaking, but Kal had every confidence that this man was capable of accomplishing it. His mother had placed her faith in him, and over the course of their journey together, Kal found that he had done the same.

With an easy smile, Kal carefully sat up, ignoring Bruce’s protests and attempts to make him lay down again, and turned to cradle the king’s face in his hands.

“I meant what I told you before Bruce. I will not leave your side unless you send me away – whatever I can do to ease your burdens, it shall be done. You’ve more than proven yourself on this quest, and I know you can meet every expectation that has been placed upon you, but I also know that it can be daunting to do it alone.” His smile softened and he rubbed his thumbs over the arch of Bruce’s cheekbones. “So if the only thing you end up needing me for is standing by and reminding you that you aren’t alone, then it is a duty I will undertake with dignity.”

Kal felt vindicated as he drew a real smile out of Bruce, helpless to do anything but lean in and kiss it. It was just a brief press of lips, but as he pulled away, he whispered, “Though I must confess, I hope you also need my services to keep your bed warm. It would be a task I could fulfil with great enthusiasm.” Bruce barked a sharp laugh, halfheartedly pushing Kal’s mischievous grin away with an open palm.

Kal knew the path ahead was going to be arduous – there would be nothing easy about clashing with the god of war – but he wasn’t as worried as he’d been when his mother first broke the news. The king of Gotham _would_ save this world, and the people would tell stories of his bravery until he passed into legend.

He may not be the savior of humanity just yet, but it was a name he would earn in the months to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Make sure you check out all the other stuff from the other bang participants! You can find me on [Tumblr](http://dippkip.tumblr.com/) and Twitter, so hit me up if you have Thoughts you'd like to share.


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